Shadow Of Me
by DespiteGatsby
Summary: It turns out that sometimes, the future belongs to someone else.
1. Growing Pains

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

**There wasn't such a long wait now was there? For your enjoyment, your pleasure, and maybe even your guilty pleasure… I present to you, the sequel to my hit story **_**Breathless**_**… Shadow of Me.**

"Patrick Redfield." Claire started at her son. "You deliberately disobeyed me… I told you to ignore that boy. And what do you do? Fight him."

"Mom… before you yell at me, he started it! And you always told me to defend myself! So what does that make you, mom?" The young boy ran up the stairs, tears on the verge of falling from his hazel eyes.

Claire Redfield sighed and plopped down onto the living room couch. She shook her head and sighed again. Being frustrated with her son was not her favorite thing in the world but this time, he had crossed the line. Both of her children, Patrick and her daughter Kaya, were in sixth grade and were twins. Like most siblings, they fought but they loved each other more than anyone could imagine. Claire knew it was the Redfield heart they both shared. Just as when Chris and she were children, Patrick and Kaya shared a special bond that would never be broken.

"Mom, what's up with Pat?" Claire turned to face the kitchen archway and smiled sadly.

"Oh, that damn boy at school kept picking on him and this time, Patrick just snapped."

The young girl, with fiery red hair like her mother, sat down on the couch. "Well that kid won't give up. He's so mean to Pat. It's crazy, mom. He just gets some kind of kick out of it."

"Have you ever done anything about it?"

"Well… no." 

Claire raised an eyebrow, "Why?"

"Because every time I try and help Pat, he just tells me to stay back, he doesn't want me getting hurt."

Claire smiled. In so many ways, her to children mirrored Chris and herself when they were in their youth. Being 37, most of her past was forgotten due to the fact that it wasn't all that great to remember. Raccoon, Rockfort and everything after that had haunted her.

Yet one memory lingered on her brain like gum stuck to the bottom of a shoe…

Albert Wesker.

It had been eleven years since she had seen his menacing face.

And she could never want him more than she did these days.

He left her.

Not because of a fight.

Not because she wasn't the one.

Claire knew, deep in her heart, Wesker left her to protect her. The world was stacked against him, yet he continued to fight. Although his cause wasn't as helpful as he might have thought, Wesker turned out alright in the end… and the end came much too fast for them. It was a twist of fate that had brought them together and a twist of fate that had separated them. Wesker was now a shadow that ran away with Claire Redfield's heart and never returned.

"I'm gonna go talk to your brother,"

Claire knocked on Patrick's door, hoping that he would at least say something to her. The door creaked open a bit and a hazel eye gazed up at her.

"Honey, can I come in?"

"I guess so…" He opened the door and stepped aside, shutting it behind her.

Claire sat down on his bed and patted the spot next to her. Patrick sat and avoided her gaze, staring out of the window.

"Patrick, I didn't mean to upset you… I just don't want you to get hurt. I hope you understand, honey. I'm not trying to make you mad; I'm just trying to protect you." She hugged her son, "Just like you try to protect Kaya. I just want you to be safe, and fighting is the last thing I want you to do!"

He squirmed out of her hug and crossed his scrawny arms. "Mom… I can take care of myself."

Claire laughed and ruffled his blonde hair that fell just above his ears, spiked in the front. "I know you can, Patrick."

"Why do you always look at me like that, mom?"

A bolt of sadness flew through her, and she knew she must confess. "You just remind me so much of your father. That's all."

"Oh… was he a good man, mom?"

"He was a _great _man, Patrick."

"Then if he's so great, why doesn't he come home?" the boy said sadly.

"I don't know." And this was true; Claire did not know when Wesker would return. She didn't know if he was even alive still. Given the situation she left him in, he could be buried in one hell of a shallow grave. If he was still out there somewhere, diligently typing away on his laptop, creating viruses, causing havoc… then eventually, and Claire knew, something would lead him back home. But until then, she survived; little by little she reclaimed what she had lost to him even if that reclamation was too small to fully remember. She was scared of what was ahead, and at times she would consider giving up… but then she would remember what she was fighting for. Claire fought for a perfect existence for her and her children. No plague would befall her family because of bad blood, and even though at times, there was nowhere to run, the escape route was right in front of them and she would hear Wesker's voice in her ear… 'Hold onto what you believe, Dearheart.'

He, at one time, had told her as such, and after that day, less and less of her was afraid to confront him. To tell him that he was wrong, and more importantly, remind him that she cared.

"Is he a coward, mom?"

Claire shook her head, "He was the bravest man I had ever met, honey. Nothing could hold your dad back."

"Nothing?" Patrick asked curiously.

"Nope! Not even the American Government."

"Whoa… why did he fight so hard?"

"He fought for what he believed in, just like me and Uncle Chris. But your dad had different ideas of world peace… he thought that all the people of the world needed to be erased so he could start fresh, but that wouldn't work…"

"You can't just kill everybody like that, mom." Patrick said softly.

"I know… but Wesker, your father, would have done whatever it took to succeed. He never quit, even when he was told to step down, he would step up and destroy the competition."

Patrick hopped off the bed and grabbed a comic book from his shelf, walking back over he sat the book down on Claire's lap, flipping open to the first page. "He's like Superman… right, mom?"

"Something like that," She responded flatly. "He's no superhero though, Patrick. He was just one man with one idea that carried him away from his family."

"Will he ever come home, mom?"

Claire shook her head and placed a hand on the back of her son's neck, brining him in for a hug that was well deserved. "I don't think so."

**A/N: So, like ATTWN, this has a short first chapter (or intro, whatever you wish to call it) and as things get deeper, the chaps will get longer. As for now, I leave you with this fine work. NOTE: Kids are really hard to write because, I'm not too fond of kids AND, I'm an antisocial teenager. So, I went out on a limb here. My littlest sister is 11 so I'm kind of basing her as a template for the twins. Attitude wise, Trinity (my sister) is a freaking brat (aren't they all) but she's also still a kid and kids tend to do all of the same things at that age. ANYWAYS, enough of my rant, I leave you now. **


	2. Imagine Life Without Me

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

**I'm really pumped while I write this while wearing my new Thunder Cats T-Shirt.**

He worked so hard all the goddamned time, that at some point during work he would stop suddenly, clenching his fist and he would have to sit and rub his temples. Age was also getting to him… now being forty-three; Albert Wesker was starting to give into Claire Redfield's words: You can't work forever, babe.

He spun around in his chair, facing the opposite wall made entirely of glass. The ground below was a view of the city below, Prague's nightlife. One of the most beautiful places on earth was treating Wesker to a wonderful view. He sighed, unable to concentrate on the stack of paperwork that had to be done by tonight, spinning around again to face his desk, Wesker snatched up a picture of Claire that nestled itself between his laptop and paper tray. He smiled to himself… the radiation of her own smile made his heart lurch within his chest. He ran his thumb down her pictured face… eleven years. It was all too much to bear and so many times he thought of finding her, facing her once more. Her reaction would certainly be classic… a fresh slap to the face, a couple f-bombs, and maybe even a tear or two… this made him want her even more.

He missed everything about her. The very essence of Claire made his head spin with confusion, she was a Redfield! The very flesh and blood of Chris! When Wesker found out that Claire had nabbed something from his labs, he was furious. The level hate boiled over immensely and all he wanted was to rip out her little throat and watch her bleed all over her carpet. But… when the thought in his mind clicked… he could use her. Leverage against Chris that would work out so wonderfully. When he took her away, he discovered that living with her was one of the most annoying things he had ever endured. She was a mouthy brat who was just like her brother and it infuriated him, and the more he looked at her, the more he came to despise her. But one fateful night almost took her life… Wesker felt compelled to help her. She was wounded, if he hadn't done anything, she would have been dog food. The tears in her eyes stung him… he wasn't supposed to feel any sympathy for her.

It was Claire.

How in the world could he resist her? She was beautiful, absolutely stunning. Her blue eyes swam with sheer innocents even if she had some blood on her hands. Those eyes would plead him not to hurt her and in the end… he didn't.

He couldn't.

Endless nights spent thinking about her and he would wake from a dream, almost hoping she would be there beside him.

There was a knock on the door, dragging Wesker from his lost thoughts. "Come in," he commanded.

It was Conan from HQ. "Hey, Albert! Nice day isn't it?" He asked him happily while seating himself in a chair.

"Dandy," Wesker deadpanned.

Conan chuckled, "You're always the one to brighten up my day."

Wesker sighed heavily and leaned back in his leather office chair. "What is it now, Conan?"

The man winced and threw a stack of paper on his desk, pointed to the first paragraph and tapped it there. "_That, _that is the data that HQ rounded up, it seems that your little project isn't what it's cracked up to be. They think that you're up to something, something to spite them just like you did with Umbrella."

"I am up to something." Wesker replied coolly. "But they need not fret. I've got it under control."

Conan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah but, Al… this project of yours is all the way in _Africa_. And I see you in Prague. Go on and explain that."

"Like I said, Conan, everything is under control. I let nothing go amiss in my plans. So you tell HQ, Mr. Harper especially that he has nothing to worry about."

"Yet…" Conan said under his breath.

Wesker spun around in his chair, facing the window again. "I heard that."

"Heh, sorry." Conan said nervously. "Anyways… would you like me to leave this here for you to look over?"

"Yes, please do." Wesker replied politely and then swiveled back to face Conan. "And do not fail my request. I expect to hear from Mr. Harper as soon as I get notice that you have returned to HQ. Understand?"

Conan gulped. "Yes, sir."

Wesker waved his hand to the door and raised an eyebrow above his dark sunglasses. "I assure you know where the door is. Or do I have to escort you myself?"

Conan shook his head quickly, standing up and pushing in the chair. "No, sir that won't be necessary. I promise you that your message is safe with me." With a quick salute to his superior, Conan Jonson was free of Wesker's office.

He leaned up against the wall, letting out a breath that he seemed to be holding in for ages. Albert Wesker scared the bones right out of his body, the man was the walking definition of superiority, power, and death. Every one who worked with Tricell, or for that matter, knew Wesker's name, they knew that whenever he showed up, disaster was never far behind. It followed him like a curse but a curse that he utilized and didn't seem to mind. He was a wolf without the fur but he carried the claws and fangs. Even to prove how vicious he was, Conan remembered on young orderly who assisted Wesker daily with lab experiment. The boy was fresh out of college and what made matters worse, Wesker was the perfectionist and let nothing go amiss. Then one day, the boy dropped a chemical fluoride onto the specimen, a corpse of a man whom carried the T-A/W, mind you, the _rarest _T sample created my Mr. Genius himself. The corpse was their last bet on harvesting a stable sample otherwise; Wesker would have to start from scratch.

And that's exactly what would happen.

The corpse disintegrated, and without proper stoppage of the chemical, it ate the entire body away in seconds.

Cowering did not help the boy as his young blood was slathered all over the porcelain floor. Conan recalled walking in on the incident, the fumes set off the toxic gas radar and he rushed into the situation only to Wesker covered in the orderly's blood. Conan only called for a cleanup crew; for he knew there was nothing he could do. Wesker pulled the plug before he even had time to blink.

After that, no one interfered with him. He didn't want anyone's help and he strictly put rookies with the cleanup until they were properly trained.

Steady hands and clear heads was all Wesker wanted. Actually, he insisted on having no one but… the help _did _make things go a tad quicker. All the more time he could relish in his success.

Conan didn't want to know what Wesker was _really _capable of. He knew the his Wesker's limits and where he drew the line, yet that was never far from calm, cool, and collected exterior. What when on in that man's mind was beyond him. What went on outside the walls of this building was also beyond him. In all of his years working with Wesker, being nine years exact, he never saw a ring on his finger or a woman on his hip. He seemed lonely as a rock in the middle of nowhere and never seemed to enjoy the company of others.

One sad existence Wesker lived.

And speaking of the devil, just then, Wesker stormed out of his office, clutching a picture frame in his gloved hand. Conan doubled backwards when the office door slammed into his face, crushing his glasses and his nose. A full-forced slam followed as Wesker's hand whipped backwards to shut it.

Successfully breaking the wooden door from its hinges and it clattered to the floor. Conan holding his now bleeding nose, his glasses clinking to the metal ground below. Conan reached his arm out towards Wesker, "Where in the _hell _are you going?"

Wesker's baritone voice echoed through the empty hall, "It's none of your _fucking _business, Conan!"

He left it at that. He knew not to push Wesker buttons, for he would it would result in Wesker pushing you down a hole.

XXXXX

Albert Wesker stormed down the hallways of the Tricell building he worked in, the picture in his hand cracking from his brutal grip. He dismissed elevators and took the stairs instead, stalking down them like a devilish panther, the dark of the building shading his dark face, his sunglasses reflecting the puny light, his arch-fiend eyes flashing in the darkness. Janitors who passed him cowered and waited for him to pass, late working lab techs saluted to him, perking up to look dignified, spilling a nervous "Good evening, Mr. Wesker" from their chapped lips. He ignored them all, making his way to the front entrance he crossed the road, the chilly night air clinging to his breath. The bridge across the road is where he ended up, overlooking the lake beneath. He cocked back his arm, the picture ready to be launched to China and back. He threw all of his weight into is well awaited throw… but he doubled over, clutching the railing for support, his boots slipping up and almost propelled him over the edge.

The picture of Claire Redfield still remained in his weak, shaking hand.

He gripped the rail so hard, it bent with a dull, metallic creak.

Frustration coursed through his inhuman veins, it was Claire who gave him what he never had… it was Claire who showed him that there was more to life than work and success. It was Claire Redfield who showed Wesker the meaning of beauty and forgiveness. Ridding her from his life once and for all was the worse mistake he would have made if his hand would have let go. The photo was the last reminiscence he had of her.

Of the woman who changed everything he thought he knew about a Redfield.

Wesker's frown deepened, he held her frozen self in both hands, looking down on it. Time seemed to stop, as if she was really there with him, standing beside him, leaning into his steel frame. But his dream was never a reality.

Not anymore.

Wesker turned around and walked back to the parking lot, and decided to head home. He neared his black Cadillac CTS V Supercharge, clicking his automatic car starter on his keychain. He opened the door and started to get into the luxury sports car, when a whiff of an unfamiliar scent filled the air. Something that he had never smelled around the building.

Danger.

He moved to the back of the car and proceeded to open the trunk.

Suddenly, Wesker spun around dropping the picture on the pavement, and grabbed a man by his collar, the smell lingered thickly on him. The man smiled sadistically and laughed, taunting the already immense pain that was about to be given. Wesker rotated the man and grabbed him by his hair, smashing his face into the back windshield of his Cadillac.

But the man kept laughing. Mocking him in the most annoying manner.

He slammed his face into the car again; the laughter was broken for a mere second but painfully continued, laced with the coughing of blood. Wesker was fed up with this man's games and could no longer stand the sound of the laughter.

Repetitively, as if he had no control of his arm, the man's head met the windshield until it was a bloody slop of skull and brains.

No more laughing.

He slid the man from his car, blood soaking the black paint.

Time for a carwash.

His unmoving form crumbled to the ground face first. Not that it needed anymore damage.

Wesker picked out piece of paper from the man's now filthy jacket pocket and unfolded it to read the contents.

_This was only the first trial in your endless journey, Albert. Quick decisions and not afraid to get a little dirty. I like that. Look ahead for another surprise. _

He clenched the paper and whipped it to the ground with a growl. He walked calmly over to the now completely shattered picture of Claire and picked it up off the ground. He looked back over to mess of a man and frowned.

"You broke my picture."

**A/N: OMG! That was actually really fun to write! Wesker is back and back in action. As soon as he thinks things are going great, someone jumps him and he proceeds to beat their motherfucking ass. Wesker! Wesker! You're our man! If you can't do it, no one can!**


	3. The Longer I Wait

Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil. But, like all of their fans… I wish I did.

**So while reading other stories, I decided to do like a reviewers block. Something along those lines: To where I reply to your reviews for you to see! (And maybe Wesker will make a cameo!) This chapter has little dialogue so… don't let it bore you.**

_**Pinkalmods**_**: I did hum the theme song while writing lol. And I do like to tease you guys! It just keeps you coming for more!**

_**Bearybeary**_**: I have no idea what you're talking about. Wesker would like you to rephrase in a more specific manner.**

_**Naoko**__** Suki**_**: Yes, Wesker is back and he is back in black. Hehe… get it…? Because black… ah whatever! Yes, it will be very hard for Wesker to rid Claire of his mind so he can work but you know that he could never. It would be like wiping his entire memory. And yes, that man shouldn't have snuck up on Wesker; boy was he asking for an ass beating. **

_**Elevenzombies: **_**Wesker is just sweet like that. In my stories, I like making Wesker just a stitch OOC because I find it more helpful to find something in him that really isn't there. (But I discover it while I write him.)**

_**MaleficMistress: **_**You bet your ass Patrick is just like Wesker! Kaya, I know she wasn't really involved in the first chapter much but she'll be getting more involved when drama starts hardcore with poor little Patrick. **

Wesker scrubbed the blood from underneath his fingernails in his bathroom. He has cleaned the stains from his hands and wrists, washing his sterling silver watch cautiously. His sunglasses rested on top of the toilet tank, and his work shirt hung from the shower rack. He leaned into the porcelain sink, splashing his face with the ice cold water. Taking a deep breath, Wesker turned off the faucet then clutched either side of the skink, letting his head hang with drips of crystal-like water roll from his skin sable skin like ink on charcoal. His eyes opened the arch-fiend slits like a devilish panther shown, still wild with the smell of blood in his nostrils.

He could not resist.

The man he killed, whoever it was, had triggered something in Wesker that he had long since stored away.

Rage.

It was an emotion that Wesker did not indulge in too often anymore because of the effects it had on him. During and after.

During his so called 'rage' his temper flared like a bull, his eyes swirled with hate, and his finger itched to take hold of something and snap it in two. The blood within his very veins boiled over until his skin was left blazing. He would kill with his mind on automatic; it was like riding a bicycle. You never forget. And in the midst of it all, he would tire himself out, no longer able to cover himself in his victims blood. His cool demeanor: Crushed. The relaxed façade that held it all together: Smothered by his animal-like fury.

The after effects were just as worse as before. He would crave it ten minutes later. He would try and purge the feeling from his brain, satisfy it with a good bloody steak. But it would never relent. It would pester him for days after until the only thing he could do was hunt.

And that's exactly what he would do.

Albert Wesker usually found himself, in this state, in one of many Prague's vast forests. His breath would be captured by the cool air and warped into a creature of the night. The moon would shine brightly down onto the canopy of trees that towered over a bloodthirsty god. He would then drop to all fours, heaving like a starved animal; the saliva would accumulate in his hot mouth, the scent of his helpless prey just beyond his clawless reach. The native Mouflon were always at the end of Wesker's mercy. He would spot one just ahead of the brush, tending to its lamb in the pasture. He could smell the thick, warm meat under the wool. The saliva in his mouth building wildly. Without any warning, Wesker would spring into the group like a wolf, arms outstretched, hands open, ready to clamp down on his prey's neck. The animals would scatter in every direction, baying, panic washing through their timid bodies. Wesker's head would whip left then right, trying to spot his victim before it escaped his deadly grasp.

And one would falter.

It would lose its balance.

Slowing down the animal.

Wesker would spring out of his fours position, running at full human speed; giving the animal a fair run was only sportsmanlike. Like a cheetah, he grabbed onto the animals rear as it bucked frantically, getting one swift kick to his face only made the hunt more exciting.

There was no need for a struggle anymore… the sheep knew its end was nigh and the bones in its neck slivered into pieces. The drive for a kill as gruesome as this was driven by a combination of Wesker's bloodlust and the T-virus demand for a physical challenge. He would never feast upon the animal's flesh, more so he would rip it limb from limb, relishing in the sound of the slick snap of bones and tissue.

And with any kill he would make, like great sex, he craved it everyday hereon. But again, he would stave his body's unattainable hunger with something that was just as equal and mostly pleasing: Work.

Wesker's glory was ruined by the sound of his cell phone ringing.

He growled and pushed himself away from the sink and out of the bathroom. "Bloody hell…" he mumbled. "What?" He demanded sharply. Then man on the end of the phone was nervous, it sounded like Conan so Wesker listened.

"_Al! There is a body in the parking lot! It's been beaten to hell so the cops can't identify him… but he was lying in your parking space. What in the fuck did do this time?" _

"Nothing." Wesker snapped. "Fix it." With that, his cell was once again vacant on the nightstand.

He fell back onto his bed, turning to face the empty left side. Always Claire's favorite side of the bed. He ran his arm along the sheets to grasp the left pillow in his fist; the feather's poking his palm. If Claire were here she would stay awake with him all night, calming his overactive nerves, reminding him that everything was going to be alright. He would then agree while planting a kiss upon her lips, but then coming to the horrid realization that none of it was real anymore.

The left side of his bed had been empty for eleven years. Aside from shitty one night stands with women who were more desperate than a lonely housewife. He would leave them money on the nightstand for a cab and never call.

_Kind of like what you did with Claire… _Wesker thought to himself. But again, like he would always remind himself, Claire was much more than a one night stand. She was his Dearheart. The heart that stole his… Claire was Wesker's net if he ever was to fall and someday, he hoped, she would come back. Or maybe he would go searching for her. In the end, Wesker had a feeling that he and Claire would meet again. The next time, it could be as enemies as it was before, or it could be as lovers as both of them would hope for.

Wesker rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, gazing at the patterns the swipes of paint seemed to make, paying no attention to the ringing phone. He seemed to drown out the sound with his thoughts.

His thoughts on Claire Redfield.

The forbidden love neither of them planned on occurring. She was Chris' sister, the very image of a Redfield that irked him so.

And he was Albert Wesker. The sinister mastermind that would make the devil bow on his hands and knees.

A love, if it was there, that would have ruined them both in the end. For Wesker knew that it would never work out and he believed that Claire knew as well. She was brilliant; he never understood where her brains came from.

Wesker chuckled, well it certainly wasn't Chris.

Speaking of the devil, Chris was another factor. He was an overprotective oaf who never let Claire too far from her leash. They were all they had left of each other, their parents being dead and the majority of their family shared the same fate. He was aware that they had some long distance relatives that were unwilling to bring them in. Chris raised Claire from a young age, teaching her the rights and wrongs of the world.

Finishing college and marrying a nice man from the city: Right.

Falling for their worst enemy and then sleeping with him: Wrong.

He took Claire by the hand; he didn't offer her wealth and power. He didn't trick her into thinking he was her ruler. But rather he was honest. He has no intentions of hurting her, he found himself crushing his walls for her. Everyday she would learn something knew that few people knew about. He would knock down a barrier and let her cross into his boundary. She was frightened at first, wondering why in the world he was acting in such a way… yet after time, she came to realize that Wesker wasn't the cold bastard she remembered… but he was a man. A man that told her he was willing to give up everything he had just for the sake of her safety but more importantly: Her happiness.

It seemed that every time Claire gazed into his eyes, she was searching for something that was lost… yet, she would always dig it up. Reminding him that he wasn't as secretive as he thought and Wesker was a demon that Claire was willing to exercise so they could sustain a 'happy' existence.

She was the beauty he never thought could exist within a human being… she was flawless from her fiery hair to her black painted toenails. Everything about Claire enticed Wesker into a state that he thought escaping would be more than easy. Again, he was wrong.

He found himself being wrong more and more these days.

After Claire had questioned his very moral, his very existence… it came beyond work and lab tests. It was now a game of chance that he played with her… and she was very good at it. She would hold his very hand over the edge, she would threaten to drop him, and he would never beg for mercy, she would only pull him away from his death. The tables would be turned and sometimes, Wesker held Claire by her final finger.

But he would never let her slip.

Wesker wasn't going to let Claire off that easy, he had to bend her six different ways to get what he wanted. She would do the same.

The only part of their 'relationship' that irked him was the sex. No, it wasn't horrible, in fact, it was mind blowing. But he was slightly frightened… he never wore protection. Wesker just went with his gut and assumed he was sterile after the infection.

It was only logical.

But a part of him worried about his assumption. He could be wrong. After all, he wasn't _always _right. But then again, he would guess that Claire was courteous enough to let him know if had children, if not, that was her decision. It never jogged his mind after his first thought.

In the end, there was never anything wrong about what he did with Claire. She allowed it so he had given it. He never harmed her purposely, he didn't ignore her when she desired something, and he never took her like an animal (even thought he wanted to so badly), he was gentle like he promised… but he was everything that he thought he could never be. He cared for her in a way that seemed so foreign to him.

Could he love Claire?

Absolutely.

That feeling was there but he didn't know if it was the right time. He had told her that he didn't want her to forget about what they had felt for each other and consider it.

Could she love him?

Again, absolutely.

It made it even more erotic to know that it was forbidden. She was Redfield. He was… well he was Wesker.

The art of crossing lines that were never meant to be crossed, stakes that the played at…

Evil mastermind meets freedom fighter.

They were polar opposites yet Wesker relied on the theory that opposites attracted and therefore:

He had Claire Redfield and she had Albert Wesker.

**A/N: THIS WAS AN AMAZING CHAPTER IN MY EYES! I just adore writing a feral Wesker who lusts for killing things! AH! I love it! It's my style and when he's like this, you think twice before pulling his tail. Please forgive me if there are any errors. I usually read through the chapter after its poster because I'm too lazy to do it before hand…**


	4. The Great

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

**Ok, so I want to say one thing up front here: For all of you who are reading And Then There Were None, I'm running out of plot. I don't know what to write anymore! If someone could please help me out! It hasn't been updated in so fucking long and I hate making you guys wait. So if someone would like to help me through this bullshit, let me know.**

_**Elevenzombies: **_**Thank you for the love. Wesker's mind is hard to write considering that fact that… well that its Wesker lol. **

_**Bearybeary: **_**I STILL have no idea what you're getting at here. And no, Wesker is not a predator… he's just a man who never knows what he's up to.**

_**Naoko Suki: **_**It is a huge part of him, I agree with you on that! It's my job to write a good Wesker otherwise, amazing people such as yourself wouldn't read!**

_**MaleficMistress: **_**Wesker! Get your ass moving! Haha, I agree! Sometimes, Wesker needs to have something slip his mind and I guess the thought of him being sterile was one of those things! Yes, I do like my little OC Conan and no joke, I kind see him Conan O'Brian-ish. Lol. Yes, the 'cravings' they are something that will pop up again. And I used sheep because the threat of people he faced to them. The more the crave got worse, the more people would end up dead so better sheep than people right? Lol. **

Claire was putting the laundry away while her daughter Kaya sat on the dryer, swinging her bare feet back and forth. She smiled brightly towards her mother, her blue eyes shining. Claire smiled wickedly and shook her head, shutting the washer; she leaned against the wall eyeing her daughter suspiciously. "What do you want, Kaya?"

The girl pointed at herself and looked around as if her mother was asking an imaginary friend. "Me?" She asked sarcastically.

Claire laughed and grabbed her shoulders giving her a light shake. "Yes you!"

Kaya bit down on her bottom lip and smiled. "Nothing."

Claire swung her daughter into her arms and carried her into the living room, setting her down on the couch. "Oh I think you want something and you are gonna tell me."

Kaya shook her head. "Not this time, mommy. You aren't getting anything from me!"

Claire attacked her daughter's stomach, tickling was the best way to get the answers from her children. It reminded her of how she got answers from Wesker… demanding. Claire inwardly laughed as her daughter giggled herself to death. Wesker always denied Claire's claims until she got it from him by pleading in a child-like manner.

"Ok! Mommy! Ok!" The girl guarded her belly with a pillow, her laughter stopping. "I wanna go with you to Boston!"

Claire folded her arm. "No way, kiddo. Me and Patrick have important things to do. Your brother needs to see an old friend of ours. He can help him through his chaos."

"But, mom! It's unfair! Pat gets to go!"

"It won't be as fun for him as you think. We're going to a therapist. Patrick needs some emotional help."

"Just because he misses dad more…" She mumbled under her breath.

Claire caught that and crossed her arms even tighter, "No… no that's not why, Kaya." She sat down next to her daughter. "Patrick doesn't understand like you do. That makes you the lucky one. He thinks daddy will never come home."

"He will come home, mom!" Kaya beamed happily.

Claire inwardly sighed. "Yeah… he will." She said quietly. "But your brother just needs someone to help him right now. It's nothing more than a few days visit and then we'll be home before you know it. Besides, you get to stay with Uncle Chris and Aunt Jill."

The girl nodded understandingly. "Ok… but, mom?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Will I get to see daddy before Uncle Chris catches him?"

"Who told you that?" Claire asked harshly.

"Well… Chris told me."

"What did he say to you, Kaya?" Her mother demanded.

"He said that… he was gonna catch daddy one day. And when he did…" Kaya began to tear up. "The world would be happy and no one would have to be scared anymore."

"Uncle Chris is lying to you, Kaya. Your father is not a bad man. Don't listen to him when he talks about daddy ok?"

She nodded and accepted her mothers hug. "Why does Uncle Chris hate daddy?"

"You'll understand when you're older, honey."

The sound of footsteps grabbed both if the girl's attentions. Patrick sulked down the staircase, looking in their direction. "Mom?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah, Pat? What's up, baby?"

"I wanna go to the park."

Claire was confused for a moment but then nodded, getting off of the couch. "Ah ok. Kaya, do you wanna come?"

The girl shook her head. "No, I'll let you and Pat talk."

Claire was calm with leaving her at the house, the park was across the street and they would only be gone for a few minutes. Knowing Patrick, he would just want to cry and let no one see except his mother. Claire opened the door; a whip of air swished her red locks. "Come on, hun." __

He walked silently beside her, looking ahead of him and never anywhere else. They reached the park and took a seat on bench; Patrick sighed and kicked a stone with his shoes. "What's on your mind?" Claire asked.

"Dad," the boy replied bluntly. "I found this book on the shelf in the living room." Patrick handed her a tattered copy of _The Great Gatsby. _

Wesker's favorite book.

It was sort of ironic, a book about lost love yet, a book about losing everything you had just to gain one single thing. In the end, that one thing that you had gained, you always had. It was also Wesker's way of saying he was lost. Gatsby and Wesker were on the same endless path to glory but many things would stall them.

War.

Death.

Passion.

When the curtains closed, Wesker and Gatsby were two sides of the same coin. Lost souls searching for something they would never find.

Patrick opened the front cover and pointed to faded black ink that read:

_To: Albert_

_From: Mom_

_One day, when you are down, when the world has nothing more for you, you may find this book as your savior. The road you are on will never end; it will only expand before your very eyes. Never give up, my son. I love you more than anything in this world, life is short, enjoy it with this book. _

"It looks old." Patrick chimed.

Claire held the book carefully, tears welling up in her eyes. "It is. This was your father's favorite book. He found so many things inside it… yet, I think it drove him away."

"I read it. Gatsby was a man with everything… but nothing at all."

"That was your dad."

"He was stopped by fate and love."

"Just like your dad."

"Mom… the world makes no sense!" The boy laughed a little.

Claire hugged him. "I know, baby. But, your father always told me that nothing ever has to."

He looked up her with hazel eyes. "Why?"

"It'll just run its course."

"Is that what dad said?"

Claire hugged her son tighter, "Something like that."

XXXXX

Claire was in bed that night, late for that matter. It was 1 AM… wonderful.

She put the twins in bed at nine, they had school tomorrow. She lay in her King Sized bed, the right side empty.

Again.

It was something that she would do every night… turn over to see if he was there. Occupying the lonely spot in her bed and in her heart, one sliver of comfort was needed to fall asleep and most nights; it was thoughts of her dear Albert Wesker. The man who showed her life was more than just living; it was living like you had nothing else to live for. If you were to die that very day, would you be satisfied with what you had done? He strived to make everyday they had the best, and sometimes it wouldn't work, for duty would call, yet he would always end up on the right side of that bed. Gazing at her with those hungry, burning eyes, lusting for her every second that precariously ticked by. Work would bring out the stress in him and Claire was the only one that could purge that stress.

Nocturnal activities would result in late mornings and quite a few sore muscles. It made Claire smile widely just thinking about it, the spot in her heart still filled by him no matter how many years would pass. He could be gone forever, but that place in her heart would never relent for another. After it was all over, after Claire realized he was gone, she took heed to what he had said: Do not come looking for me.

She didn't.

Claire respected Wesker as he did her. But the sadness that brewed compelled her many times to disobey what he had asked and fucking track him down. But, like she had promised herself, she never did and therefore never got the chance. There were nights when the phone would ring late, later than ten. She would hope it was him, for he always had a habit of staying up late. But it would just be the office, making a late night cancel for the next day's conference.

Claire looked at her clock… 1:30.

She groaned and turned off the TV, getting some sleep is all she needed. Her and Patrick were leaving for Boston on Wednesday, so he needed the rest just as much as she did.

Soon, the moon illuminated her room and the warmth of night crept into her sheets, lulling her asleep with the quaint sound of tree frogs and crickets.

Darkness with a smile.

_The sound of running water washed over Claire's senses, she was naked, a cream colored sheet covered her flawless body, and the bed was rid of its pillows and comforter. She wrapped the sheet around her in a dress-like fashion, padding into the bathroom, where the source of the water was. The door was cracked and she peered in to see Wesker with his back facing her. He was saying something under his breath, it seemed strained. _

"_Albert?" Claire called quietly. His head whipped around, his red eyes were blazing furiously, and his canine teeth were bared slightly. His shirt was missing; it seemed to be on the floor ripped to shreds. _

"_My Dearheart…" He said cynically. "You've come to see what I have in store for you, beautiful." _

"_What are you talking about?" Claire asked, taking a step forward when her mind screamed at her to take a step backward. _

_Wesker beckoned her with his slender index finger. "Come, Dearheart. I don't bite." _

_The bathroom was small, the shower was draped in a curtain and the only light was from the moon outside. Wesker's eyes illuminated, they were trained on Claire, his handsome chiseled face shadowed by the darkness. He grabbed her wrists tightly, and turned her to the mirror, he wrapped his steel arms around her waist, snuggling his face into the crook of her neck. She welcomed the small gesture and kissed his cheek. "Claire, you know I love you." He spoke into her ear, his thin lips nipping her skin. "But you know I have to kill you." He grabbed a fistful of her hair and covered her throat with his other hand; she struggled against him but to no avail. He brought her head back to look up at him, he kissed her forehead and tears started to fall from her blue hues. Her eyes widened as his grip became stronger, iron clamping down on soft flesh. His eyes were soft, like he had regretted his action. Her lids began to close, her lips parting, death was like a shroud that washed over her. Her limp body hung in his arms, his fatal vice was loosened, and he bent down her like they were dancing. "Forgive… me… Claire." _

Her nightmare was abruptly stopped by the sound of her alarm clock wailing at 6 AM. Warm tears stung her face and pillow, the reality was frightening, it would have been like her dream if she hadn't exercised his demons. Wesker was an animal, he was set like a trap, waiting to snap when you least expect it to. The nightmare clung to her thoughts; she cuddled herself in the blankets, staring at that empty right side of the bed. She longed for him; harsh dreams such as those could not keep Claire from thinking of him. He was a ghost that would come haunt her in her most venerable state.

Sleep.

His very wake tumbled short of them, even though all was lost.

Claire would stay in bed, watch the sun rise. The very thought of how Wesker would be if Claire hadn't helped him… even though he told her not to. He stated simply that he needed no one; therefore, he didn't need Claire. But after a mull and a feeling in his very heart…

Albert Wesker found himself needing Claire Redfield more than he needed air to breathe.

**A/N: I question myself as to why I write this chapter to the Scream 4 soundtrack and Skrillex. **


	5. Fix You

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

**Sorry it's taken me a bit, just got back from vacation AND school started… I'm a junior this year… so I was feeling lazy lol. ONWARD!**

_**Elevenzombies: Yes, Wesker will be back soon enough and he steps in with all that swag!**_

_**Naoko Suki: You read my mind, dude! I had that exact same thought of Wesker showing up at the house! We are amazing! Yes, if you could find any way to help me it would be very much appreciated! **_

_**Bearybeary: The Great Gatsby is my fave book. And yes, I do understand what you're saying now lol. Sorry for the complication! Keep up the reviews!**_

_**MaleficMistress: Yes, nightmares are my forte! I love creating them because they can be anything you want them to be. Your dreams will come true m'dear; Wesker will be here soon ;) **_

_**XxXEnvyxXx: Here is your update ;) **_

_**Skidney: Stick around! **_

_**When you try your best, but you don't succeed.  
>When you get what you want, but not what you need.<br>When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep.  
>Stuck in reverse.<strong>_

When night would fall, the nocturnal creatures would come alive, brooding with the gold-horned moon, playing the melody of twilight. The windows were frosted over with late-night dew, and the lights from the city were like exotic fireworks, flashing past your eyes, exploding within your imagination.

Wesker sat at his desk, his face in his hands; the laptop was hot from eight hours of unstoppable work.

He needed a break.

He saved his work and shoved the chair back under the desk, locking the room he sulked over to his hall closet, digging out a black leather biker jacket and the keys within. The city didn't have a helmet law and it was very unlikely Wesker would crash; after all, he wasn't a drunken teenager after a wild night. He slung on the jacket and zippered it to his shoulders, letting his black t-shirt show. Wesker took the kitchen door to the garage where his German sport cars resided, his Italian luxury cruises… and his motorcycle. The Harley Softail Blackline.

Of course, in black.

The smooth exterior of the bike beckoned to our red-eyed antagonist, calling him forth like a sirens song. The key locking with the ignition was the most beautiful sound he had heard all day. He started the bike with a flick of a switch, and the engine roared to life, like thunder in the Monsoon seasons. It was a mighty kick start that would make any man's heart throb with the excitement of the open road. He slung himself onto the leather seat, the rumble of the sleek Harley sending tiny, electric-like tremors through his skin. The garage door slid into the reel, freeing a gust of wind that was quite chilly. The bike made it down the driveway smoothly, without a bump from the pavement or a pop from the engine.

His grueling headache had made an executive decision to go to the local snazzy bar.

The Watering Hole.

He was in need of a good Scotch, maybe even a Rum and Coke. He could remember that particular smell on his father, although, it was stronger. Nights when he would return home late, drunken and wild. His father, although not the most pleasant man, cared for him in a way that was almost animal.

He was born… and he watched him grow for a while, never seeing the real point in fatherhood.

As a young boy, he was neglected by his father who always had better things to do than sit around and listen to him whine.

_**And the tears come streaming down your face.  
>When you lose something you can't replace.<br>When you love someone, but it goes to waste.  
>Could it be worse?<strong>_

And at some point, he was fully dumped upon his mother, who was very busy as well. Keeping up the nightshift wasn't her forte, but she made time for her son unlike his father. When his mother had died, the blame was cleverly shifted onto a young Wesker who, at the time, was ten. At such a young age, he was willing to believe just about anything… even the fault of his dear mother's death.

He would spend another six years in his fathers 'prison' until he was free to work for Umbrella. He knew the cause of his fathers morbid brutality _was _indeed Umbrella… but an offer that promising was too good to pass up. And in the end, Wesker made a good choice. He was wealthy, well taken care of, and most of all, well respected.

Feared.

Other companies wanted him, but they could never offer as much as Umbrella.

When the time finally came, his father had met his end. It lasted no more than ten seconds, yet, every waking tick that passed seemed like hours. Hours he would make his father suffer for the things he had done to ruin his life. Being blamed for the death of someone his father cared little about anyhow. The cards had been read, the tables turned… it was Nicholas Wesker that was forever punished when the book had closed on his final pages. All of the hate he had harbored for his father was exulted in one swift pull of a trigger.

Lights would stream by the speed of the bike, the cool air slicking his hair to his head, the engine, like thunder, reverberated against the buildings and cars. He pulled into the bar's lot, letting the bike cool.

The bar was dark, the lights were dimmed, the soul purpose of setting a mood that, at the time, was unnecessary. It was quite empty, a few late night drinkers, business men having a sip after a hard day's work. Wesker sat at the bar, his elbows resting on the wood. The bartender walked up, a young lady who eyed Wesker for a moment before asking him what he'd have.

The aged Scotch was bitter but it tasted like gold on his lips. There was nothing in this world that he wanted more than a good Scotch.

_But what about Claire, Albert…? _Wesker thought to himself.

_**Lights will guide you home.  
>And ignite your bones.<br>And I will try to fix you.**_

He didn't want her on his mind… not tonight. So many things were amiss at the moment. It turned out that the man who attacked him in the parking lot was just a paid adversary whose main objective was to scare Wesker out of the city.

Did it work?

Absolutely not.

The threat that was left behind was empty; the man who sent that buffoon was caught by Tricell guards and killed that night.

He wasn't afraid of people like that; they were just humans who could do very little to him.

The only human being that had brought him to his very knees… was Claire Redfield. If it was the right time, he would surrender everything he had to be with her. But duty called and at that moment, work was the most important thing. It broke his heart… he could almost feel the pain that welled within it that morning when he left that house in his rearview mirror. He would have stayed there, in that bed with her all day if he could. Because fate had brought them together, it was fate that would pull them apart.

_**And high up above or down below.  
>When you're too in love to let it go.<br>But if you never try you'll never know.  
>Just what you're worth.<strong>_

His cell phone vibrated on the bar, he tapped the screen lightly to answer the incoming call.

"Wesker."

"Al it's me, Conan."

"Ah, Conan… can I help you?"

"Yeah… I was fixing your office door that you so graciously destroyed, and I found your wallet. I think it might have fallen off of you when you ran out."

"Thank you, I was looking for that damned thing."

"I opened it to see if was yours and… and there's a picture here. Of a woman. Who is she, Albert?"

"Her name's Claire."

"She's beautiful."

"I know."

"Please tell me that she's ok?"

"I believe so."

"Do you care for her, Albert?"

"I…" Wesker paused. He did care for Claire but no one was aware of it… he had kept her a secret. It almost felt like a sin to have a woman around, he didn't need anyone and yet, he felt the longing for Claire grow stronger and stronger every passing day. "I do."

"Promise me that you'll tell her that."

Albert Wesker's heart dropped into the pit of his stomach.

_**Lights will guide you home.  
>And ignite your bones.<br>And I will try to fix you.**_

_**Tears stream down on your face.  
>When you lose something you cannot replace.<br>Tears stream down on your face.  
>And on your face I...<strong>_

_**Tears stream down on your face.  
>I promise you I will learn from my mistakes.<br>Tears stream down on your face.  
>And on your face I...<strong>_

_**Lights will guide you home.  
>And ignite your bones.<br>And I will try to fix you.**_

**A/N: Sorry this is so short, I ran out of ideas. Lol. **


	6. Burning A Hole

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

**I have nothing to say at the moment. I LIED! I GOTTA CHOPPER IN THE BACK HUH! Song….**

_**Elevenzombies: Here you go!**_

_**Bearybeary: Thank you, good sir! Brofist!**_

_**Naoko Suki: Well like me, I take riding as sort of a freedom thing. The open road and all that stuff. So it doesn't surprise me that someone as busy and cluttered as Wesker would take up something so soothing. Take your sweet time! I have put the story on hiatus until I can think of something. **_

_**Pink Almonds: Yes Chris is a big part in the kid's life although he isn't in it much, like Wesker, he'll rear his head.**_

_**Pink Almonds: I ABSOLUTLY ADORE WHAT YOU SAID! Torturing himself because of her! Right? I mean, come ON, Wesker! Get your sorry ass moving! **_

"So, Patrick…" the man with the gray beard said calmly, "Tell me about your father."

"My dad…" Patrick said softly. "Well I don't know much about my father other than I've never met him… but mom always says he's a great man."

"Do you believe her?"

"I don't know what to believe at this point. Nothing makes any sense now. There's like a hole that's missing and I don't know what to fill it with."

"What do you desire most, Patrick…? Do you want your father to return? Do you want to exile him from your life forever because he left you?"

"No! No I want my dad to be here! To be with me and Kaya! And mom! I would give anything to meet him! To show him what he's been missing!"

"I see…" He turned to Claire who was sitting in the chair next to her son. "It almost seems as if your son has abandonment issues yet, at the same time, he seems to be coping with the fact that his father will come home."

"Patrick has a good heart, doc. And Wesker didn't really 'abandon' the kids. He never even knew they existed, or for that matter, knows now."

"Do you plan on telling him at some point?"

Claire faltered.

It was the executive decision of Chris and herself to keep the children a secret from Wesker. It wasn't because Chris' hate for that man, it was because she feared for their safety and nothing else. No one could predict how Wesker would act.

If he would be angry, this was likely.

Or if he would be happy.

Very unlikely.

The hard truth stabbed at Claire like a knife… there were so many things she saw in her children that reminded her of her dear Wesker.

"No… no I don't."

The doctor crossed his legs and eyed her skeptically. "And why is that?"

Claire looked at Patrick and then back to the man. "Because I want to spare my beautiful children their innocents. Their father… he would most likely take that away."

It was the cold hard truth. Nothing was going change Wesker, he was bitter, the only time he wasn't an ass was when he was with Claire… and they've been separated for eleven years.

"It seems as if you're afraid to expose your children to life, Claire. I suggest opening them up to reality… I don't want you to overexpose your children to the world but I would like you to allow them to experience, perhaps liven up to life."

Being a parent, Claire had to be versatile with her moods. She couldn't overact when her son fought at school, she almost felt like a hypocrite when she yelled at him. She fought in school at his age too; still, to this day she fought. Getting her fists a little bloody was a task she was pleased with executing. But ever since her twins were born, the fight in her heart had long since died away. She didn't have the rip and tear she had when she was younger.

"The world is confusing." Patrick said quietly.

"Pardon?" The doctor said.

"I said the world is confusing. If mom let me walk all over it… I wouldn't know what to do with it."

Claire winked at her son, "That's my boy."

XXXXX

The car was silent.

Claire smiled at her son. "You're a good kid, Patrick. Don't let Mr. Michael tell you any different."

"Do I have to go back?"

Claire laughed. "Not if you don't want to."

Patrick huffed. "I don't wanna…"

Claire laughed again. "Alright, hon, I won't make you."

The streets were busy, Boston always busing with people. Patrick gazed out of the window, rain began to patter down to earth, the skies turned a gloomy shade of gray and the streets became slicker. It was a time of silence, for the world seemed to slow to a stop… the young boys mind began to pace with the atmosphere, as if he had slammed the hypothetical brakes in his head. He felt dizzy, not knowing what was wrong with himself. He forced upcoming bile back down his throat, it burned as it drained back into his stomach.

"Mom…" He whispered.

"Yeah, babe?" Claire answered, never taking her eyes off the road.

"I don't feel so good…"

XXXXX

Wesker heaved his taped right fist into the 300 pound punching bag. He sent it twirling to the left, snapping the chain as it fell to the gym floor. He sucked in a breath, sweat trailing down his face.

Then something washed over him… like a wave of nausea. He grabbed onto a work bench and clutched the steel. He felt as if he might throw up on the floor, his breath was short and his eyes strained for sight. He was lightheaded… he felt aches and pains throughout his body, physically defective.

His state was unacceptable.

He hadn't felt this bad in quite some time, whatever was causing him to feel sick was an outside force that had miraculously seized his immune system, and in such a short time.

_This is bad… _Wesker thought to himself, in such a state, he could be attacked and as vulnerable as he felt, he was as vulnerable as he might have looked.

At this time… this fleeting moment… struck his racing brain as to what was needed. He needed mindless sustenance to stave his lack off processing brain. He needed facts, proof… something that would reassure him that _she _was willing to give him a second chance. It wasn't that he was feeling flu-like sick; it was his head sending waves of, perhaps, uncertainty. Unbeknownst to her… he was suffering and the years he had endured it all were finally coming back to bite him in the ass.

He needed Claire Redfield.

**A/N: IT IS SO HARD TO WRITE KIDS! AH! Sorry for the long wait, I don't have a lot of time to update because of school. But I'll try my best to get one up every week or so. AGAIN: I need help finishing And Then There Were None because it's on the worlds longest hiatus. (And I hate myself for it) it hasn't been updated in FOUR MONTHS! UNACCEPTABLE! SO if you'd like HUGE props throughout the process, PLEASE find some time to re-read it and give me your suggestions. The plot is there but I'm running dry of things to stick it with. I NEED YOUR HELP!**


	7. Curiosity Had The Cat

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

**THIS IS GETTING JUICY! Lol, that's what she said.**

_**Naoko Suki: Well, the next few chapters you're in for a wonderful surprise! Like I said, take your time. I've really been working hard to think of something to thicken up the plot but if you have ideas, I'll be more than happy to hear!**_

_**Magda: Your English is impeccable! Very well done! Yeah, Wesker and Claire are my fave because they are so perfect together. Forbidden love. Stick around, love the review!**_

_**SamWes: Aw! Thanks! I love new reviewers! And about that guy, he was no threat. It was empty and it was just something a plopped in there to get some gore in there. Nothing to worry with that guy! Thanks for the suggestion though!**_

_**Anna: Yes, yes indeed it comes back to eat away at him. Stick around!**_

Claire was walking home from the bar late that night.

It was a Friday, work had been hectic… Patrick had gotten into another fight at school. When she went to pick him up from the principal's office, he was slouched in the chair, head down, fists smeared with blood. She hoped to whatever god was up there that it was not his own. She couldn't stand the thought of someone spilling her child's blood. She was relieved when she found it was the bully's blood upon his pale fists. The nurse told Claire that Patrick had punched the boy so hard, that he was sent to the hospital with a shattered nose. This time, he was suspended.

She had come to learn that she would have to deal with Patrick's outbursts just as she did with Albert's… stay calm, and reassure them that everything was going to just fine. Claire had to deal with one of Albert's rampages and she was willing to deal with his spitting-image son. It was never easy though… every time Pat yelled back at her; she would hear a splinter of _his _voice in the boys. It startled her, made her want to cry because she hadn't heard the velvet tone of her lover's voice in eleven years.

She sauntered past a payphone and considered calling Chris because she could barely keep her eyes open. The bright lights of the street lights were burning her pupils, her skin was clammy, and her legs were weakening with every step that fell upon the concrete.

These were Claire's vital signs of being drunk, maybe not drunk, just a _tad _too much.

She thanked the heavens that she could at least function.

She leaned against the brick wall that the payphone was bolted down to and he lanky fingers crammed into her jeans pockets, searching for some change. When she fished out two quarters to feed the metal box, the phone began to ring loudly.

_That's weird… can you call a payphone? _Claire thought to herself.

It still rang.

She eyed it suspiciously… was anyone else witnessing this or was she actually drunk out of her mind? Her pale hand wrapped around the black body of the phone and she brought the receiver to her ear.

"Hello?" She asked groggily.

There was a flint of static upon the opposite line but then a voice broke through that static.

"_Battery Park." _

The line went dead.

Claire felt as if she had been dropped into a horror movie.

It was dark.

There was no one else around despite it being a Friday night in New York City.

And someone had anonymously called her via payphone, which seemed nigh impossible considering that you can't call one.

Whoever this was wanted Claire to follow there discreet directions and go to Battery Park. She was about a mile away from said park…

Should she go?

That was the only question she had. She didn't care who was on the other end of that line, she just wanted to know who would call her. More importantly, who knew her exact location.

She was Claire Redfield! Not some hooker!

"Fuck that…" Claire said to no one in particular.

Her legs began to move.

She hadn't taken more than two steps before she turned around and headed for Battery Park.

She was going to get to the bottom of this.

XXXXX

_**There's such a sad love…  
>Deep in your eyes, a kind of pale jewel.<br>Open and closed within your eyes,  
>I'll place the sky within your eyes.<strong>_

It was approximately 12:42 AM.

The night had grown colder after Claire had left the bar and began to saunter home. But, that payphone had to ring, and she had to answer it.

She was now headed for Battery Park.

It was a small park on the boardwalk. It was empty at this time of night. The teenagers had sulked back to their homes and the stoners had disappeared, leaving behind the butts of their joints.

She could hear the water splash calmly against the boardwalk walls, swishing around with the steady wind that had picked up when she got closer to the ocean. The salty air was strong in her nose; it made her heart warm up with memories of her grandparent's lake house. They had died shortly before their parents, the tragedy still upon the young Redfield siblings and then in no more than three months, their parents had been killed in a car accident.

Claire wished to forget but found it hard to let go the precious memories she had of them. Her mothers face radiant, red hair, the bluest of eyes. And her father, he was scruffy, handsome and had passed down his looks to Chris.

The moon was bright that night, a full one at that.

It gleamed upon the waters, making them shimmer like an ocean of sapphire gems.

Claire sat down on a bench, overlooking the water, waiting for whatever was in store. If this was one of her friend's ideas for a prank, it wasn't funny.

She didn't find this the least bit amusing for she was growing impatient as the minutes ticked by slowly. She was freezing cold; her breath was seen by her watchful eye.

_**There's such a fooled heart,  
>beating so fast in search of new dreams.<br>A love that will last within your heart,  
>I'll place the moon within your heart.<strong>_

Claire groaned with annoyance. "What am I _doing _here?" She spat.

She got up from her spot on the bench and proceeded to walk back home, pay Becca for watching the kids, and fall into a dead sleep on her couch.

She turned around; ready to begin walking when she was a figure about five feet from her. Her eyes, widened slightly, she tried to get a better look at who was stalking her.

"Alright, bud, you do not wanna mess with me tonight." Claire said humbly. She pointed at herself and grinned. "I think I'm drunk, and when I'm drunk, I am _not _a fun girl to hand with."

The man, or that's what Claire assumed it was, chuckled deeply. He was amused by her sudden burst of confidence. "Well it would be awfully rude of me to not escort you home, Dearheart."

That tone.

That velvet purr…

It could only belong to one man on this planet…

Albert Wesker.

Claire looked up, she held her breath, or perhaps she was unable to breath.

Her blue eyes tried to focus on the man standing in front of her, the fog had begun to roll in from the shoreline.

As if his ghost had appeared from nowhere, Albert Wesker was standing in front of her. She saw him just the way she left him.

Perfect.

His was dressed in black slacks with black shoes, his deep red-wash button down was stripped of two buttons at the top, revealing his exceptional collar bone, muscle rippled around the skin there. His ever present sunglasses were perched on the bridge of his defined nose, reflecting the moonlight and water. And just as Claire suspected, his hair was flawless, not a strand out of place from its slicked back performance.

Claire didn't know what to do, what to say, or how to react.

She wanted to run over there and jump into his arms… and that's exactly what she did.

He caught her, trapping her in his steel arms. It felt like he had died and come back to life again when her skin touched his own. Her tears were beginning to soak his shirt as she sobbed hysterically into his chest. Wesker rested his head on her shoulder, kissing her neck.

"It's good to see you, Claire." He whispered into her ear. Was it a romantic, sappy line?

No.

Did it need to be?

Absolutely not.

_**As the pain sweeps through,  
>Makes no sense for you.<br>Every thrill has gone.  
>Wasn't too much fun at all.<br>But I'll be there for you…  
>As the world falls down.<br>Falling, falling down.  
>Falling in love.<strong>_

There were no words that described the relief that swelled through his heart and the pain and the suffering that were lifted from his shoulders. He could hold her once again, as his Dearheart.

She looked up at him, removing his sunglasses and dropping them to the ground. They wasted no time.

She kissed him first, the last of her tears falling onto his cheeks. Wesker almost melted from the sensation of her lips upon his once again. She was like a drug that he just had to have more and more of. All of the years apart were all too much to bear and at any moment, he thought he might drive himself insane. She parted, but was soon swept by his lips.

She could not resist him.

_**I'll paint you mornings of gold.  
>I'll spin you Valentine evenings.<br>Though we're strangers till now.  
>We're choosing the path between the stars;<br>I'll lay my love between the stars.**_

The more time she was away the more she felt she needed his physical form there, embracing her in his long arms.

"Albert…" She whispered softly, there was a fragile pleading in her eyes.

"Claire?" He answered.

"Come home?" She asked him, gazing into his crimson eyes that swelled with longing.

"It's about time." He smiled widely, his grin revealing his pointed canines. A genuine Albert Wesker smile.

_**As the pain sweeps through,  
>makes no sense for you.<br>Every thrill has gone,  
>wasn't too much fun at all.<br>But I'll be there for you.  
>As the world falls down.<br>Falling…  
>Falling in love.<strong>_

**A/N: YAY! IT'S ABOUT TIME THEY GOT BACK TOGETHER! I was so thrilled to write this chapter. My heart was throbbing the ENTIRE time because it was just swelling with love! Claire and Wesker forever!**


	8. Quiet Company

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil**

**That last chapter got the most reviews than any of my chapters in ANY of my stories! I love you guys!**

_**Skidney: Thanks, dude! **_

_**SamWes: Aw yeah! When Wesker finds out! Fun lol! You're welcome by the way! Yes, more gore will be on the way and very soon!**_

_**Bearybeary: *Brofist!***_

_**Naoko Suki: Oh you just gave me an idea! Ah Wesker just doesn't think sometimes does he? Lol. **_

_**XxXEnvyxXx: I know, it's gonna be one hell of a surprise!**_

_**BabyAngel-Tears: Here is your update!**_

_**ZombieHuntress: Thank you for loving it! Aw thank you so much! I love to hear stuff like that! Touching is just the perfect word for this chapter. Yes, even though, after all these years, what do you expect Wesker to do? Freak the fuck out? No. He stays calm just like he always does. His rage is the most fun thing to write, a bloody, gory Wesker who can't control himself! Love! The motorcycle was just an idea that popped up because I ride it's the freedom thing that gets to us bikers. Patrick and Kaya are greatest creation because Pat is a spitting image of his dad and Kaya, although she isn't in this much yet, she portrays a younger version of Claire. Thank you so much for your amazing review! **_

"Where did you go, Albert?" Claire asked him softly, she was seated on the bench once more with Wesker at her side as it was meant to be.

"I hid." He said quietly. "For five years I ran about the world, searching for somewhere to take shelter from my enemies. At the time, I didn't have the resources to track them all down and eliminate them. That advantage was not at my disposal at the time. I felt powerless and weak because I couldn't fight back, and the more time I spent running, the more time the enemy spent tracking me down, always one step behind me."

Claire's heart lurched.

He didn't leave because he had work to do; he left because he had to hide! Hide from the masses of companies that wanted his head mounted on their mantels. It was painful to listen to him struggle with such a petty task. It seemed nigh impossible to catch Wesker and if you were every luck enough to do so, he would slip right through your fingers as if he were sand.

The idea of Wesker running cross country with snapping company hounds at his heels made Claire sick; it wasn't in his nature to run from anything.

Let alone, run for someone else.

He ran for her safety because that was all he cared about at that moment. There was nothing more he wanted then to see her safe and the only way he could ensure that she could make it out of the havoc is if he blew her away like a paper origami. Across the ocean and the lands that were spread far and wide. He would free his hands and let Claire fly from him.

"You didn't have to do all that for me," Claire told him sadly.

Wesker turned to face her and cupped her face in his bare hands, "I didn't _have _to," he started, "I _wanted _to." And just as it had before, eleven years ago, the spark within Albert Wesker's heart had reignited for a second chance to prove to someone that he was willing to throw everything away for them. He kissed her softly, making her moan slightly, she could taste the sweet justice he had brought her by coming here tonight. Coming all this way from wherever he was, just to see the woman that he let fly away years ago. She struggled to find more words, she was speechless yet she wanted to ask him more and more. She needed to hear his voice in her ear just to stave the insanity that had slowly been building for years and years.

At this point, the world didn't matter.

She was just Claire Redfield.

Not a freedom fighter right now, not an member of the BSAA. Not even the woman who stole from him.

And he was just Albert Wesker.

Not a mastermind bent on revenge. Not a mad scientist who creates viruses in his free time.

They were together, the only thing that they wanted was each other and finally, they had been rewarded for their deeds.

"Albert…" Claire said breathlessly in between heated kissed.

"Hm?" Wesker responded, breath coming hot from his nose.

Claire pulled away and straightened up. "What time is it?"

Wesker pulled up his shirt sleeve and glanced at his watch. "About 1."

Claire sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. "I have to get home."

Wesker chuckled, and the rumbled of his chest sent chills down Claire's body. "I'll walk you back. Just tell me where."

XXXXX

The two headed towards Claire's home in a humble neighborhood called Colt Court. She lived in a small two story; all of the bedrooms were on the upper level including the full bathroom. Downstairs there was a kitchen and living room. There was a half bathroom that was right across the hall from the coat closet next to the front door. Her laundry room was in the back, small with just your simple washer and dryer.

Wesker's hand was wrapped into Claire's, she had refused to let go, it made her feel warmer inside, physically and mentally.

"Home sweet home," Claire said smiling as her house came into distance. They made it to the porch and then their world came to a standstill. She would totally invite him inside but she has kids.

Kids that were also Wesker's.

Kids that he had no idea about.

But she would feel bad if she just shut him outside in the cold, although she recalled once he told her he couldn't feel cold anymore. Claire bit her lip and Wesker seemed to sense there was something fishy going on.

"What's the matter, Dearheart?" He asked her suspiciously.

"Nothing!" Claire blurted out much too quickly. "Everything is A-ok!"

Wesker raised his eyebrow and grinned slyly. "What are you hiding?"

"I said nothing, Albert." She responded more firmly this time.

There was a pause, the atmosphere around them grew thick and uncomfortable, and Claire thought she might suffocate.

"Well aren't you going to let us in?" He asked matter-o-factly.

_Oh god… what am I going to do? _Claire thought to herself.

Suddenly, the door opened and Rebecca stood there with the TV remote and bowl of chips. "There you are! I've been trying to call you! Patrick won't go to bed and—"She halted immediately. She looked at Wesker with the widest eyes; there was a strike of pure awe and a hint of fear. "W-Wesker?"

"Miss Chambers." Wesker regarded her.

"You're here…? I'm dreaming! I have to be!" She said hysterically.

"No." Claire and Wesker deadpanned in unison.

"Becky, just let us in." Claire laughed. The younger girl stepped aside, she watched Wesker carefully as if he would strike at any given moment. But the man seemed calm and totally engrossed in Claire.

She handed the girl some money for watching the kids and Becky took it with stiff hands. Her breath was caught tight in her lungs and she was starting to shake.

She was terrified.

The man who destroyed one city in a matter of hours was the father of Claire's children _and _he had no idea that they existed. Rebecca really hoped that Claire had told him at some point but as of right now, Wesker wasn't saying a thing, he was simply standing there, and he domineered just about everything in the room.

Rebecca's words finally found her lips. "I gotta bounce," She said quietly. "Billy and I have to work today."

"But it's Saturday!" Claire said aghast.

"Yeah, I know. Blows right?" She avoided any eye contact with Wesker, she left the remote and bowl on the coffee table and slinked out of the house like defeated animal.

There was a patter that was slowly coming down the stairs and Claire's head turned to see her son in his pajamas. He rubbed his hazel eyes, "Mommy?" the boy asked groggily.

"Mommy?" Wesker said surprised. Claire went up to the middle of the stairs and hugged her son tightly.

"Hon, you should be in bed."

"I couldn't sleep…" He started softly. "I had a dream about dad."

Wesker didn't like the atmosphere right now, it was thick and the awkwardness set it hard. He felt out of the loop and that was something Wesker never liked.

Claire had shooed the young boy back into his room and looked down at Wesker who stood firm and the bottom of the stairs. "Care to explain?" He asked her coolly.

She didn't know how to break the ice that had grown forty-inches thick over the years. "That's my son, Patrick."

Wesker nodded and elevated himself one step. "Go on."

"I also have a daughter, Kaya. They're twins." Claire stopped. This was the moment she had been dreading from the moment they were born.

Telling Albert Wesker that he had children.

"They're… they're your kids too, Albert."

Claire Redfield braced herself for one hell of a night.

**A/N: HAHA! Cliffhanger! You'll all get to witness Wesker's reaction next chapter!**


	9. Defeat Is Always Momentary

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Resident Evil:**

**Last chapter was a mean cliffhanger! Now here are the results!**

_**BabyAngle-Tears: The update is here for you!**_

_**Skidney: Cliffhangers keep you reading! **_

_**SamWes: *hides behind Wesker* YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE! **_

_**Elevenzombies: Take your time reading! No rush!**_

_**Maleficmistress: TADA! UPDATE! **_

_**Naoki Suki: So many questions! So little time! Yes, Wesker's reaction is foolproof. **_

_**Magda: Thank you! I tried to make it as sweet as possible without putting either of the characters out of character! Chris… oh dear Christopher is another story *sly smile***_

"What?" Wesker said breathlessly.

Claire could only nod.

She had loathed this very day. Although, she knew that the inevitable was slowly but surely approaching. There were absolutely no words… she was expecting a wrath from hell from Wesker. Yet, he calmly stood there, planted, saying nothing.

Just staring at her with his arch-fiend eyes that had haunted her for years.

She reached for his hand and he flinched.

It was like her touch burned him, she was nothing but a flame.

"Come outside with me… please?"

He heeded her offer and followed her to the porch. It was still cold outside; Claire's breath could be seen by his watchful eye. He didn't face her; he proceeded to shut the door and kept his back to her the entire time.

"Why would you hide something like this from me, Claire?" He asked her quietly. "I have every right to know…"

"You do… I panicked, Albert. I didn't know what was right or what was wrong right then. I felt that if I told you, some psycho would snatch them up. It was only for the best… and you know that! We were afraid!"

Wesker scoffed, "Oh yeah? And whose 'we'?"

"Chris and I!" Claire shouted.

"Christopher has _no _say in the decisions _you _make for _our _children, Claire. I do realize that I haven't been here to help you through all of this hell, but the least I can do now is stay and be a father to them. I deserve at least that much."

Wesker stepped back towards the door and rubbed his face in his hands. "I need some air…" He said quietly.

Claire would not stop him; she would give him the space that he needed. She also needed a breather for herself. She slumped onto the couch as her front door shut softly.

There was that patter again…

Claire turned around to see Patrick at the bottom of the stairs, he was roused from his sleep it seemed and he sauntered over to the front window overlooking the yard and street. "Who was that?" he asked calmly.

Claire joined him at the window. "Patrick… that…" She never got to finish because the boy whipped his blonde head towards his mother and his little hazel eyes widened.

"That was dad! Mom! That was dad wasn't it?" Patrick ripped open the door and ran onto the porch with his bare feet.

"Pat! Wait!" Claire yelled after him but he did not heed his mother's cries.

Wesker was well across the street now, pacing lightly. He didn't see the point in not going back inside.

She was there.

Claire had been waiting for him this entire time, keeping that left side of the bed empty all these years, just for _him._

He started to sulk down the sidewalk when he heard footsteps come up behind him quickly.

_It could be Claire… _Wesker thought to himself.

He turned around to see his son… _his son…_

"Dad! Dad wait!" Patrick had stopped three inches from colliding with Wesker and he panted harshly, seemingly unable to catch his little breath.

There was a pleading in his hazel eyes that were crushing Wesker's heart. He could literally feel the pain of years missing out on the one true thing he wanted.

He put his bare hand on Patrick's head as the boy gazed up at him, and he rustled his blonde locks. "Dad… I knew you would come back. I knew it…"

"Patrick, there is so much lost time between you and I. Please forgive me for putting it off for far too long."

Patrick giggled and nodded, "Apology accepted."

Father and son then headed back to the house… hand in hand.

XXXXX

Claire put Patrick back in bed and crashed onto the couch with Wesker. She snuggled into his chest, filled with satisfaction that he was back where he truly belonged. "Albert?" She asked groggily.

"Yes, Dearheart?"

"You made Patrick's life… all he wanted was for you to come home and you did. You found the courage to return and show your face." She looked up at him, "Thank you."

Wesker only chuckled and kissed her fully, never wanting to let go of this beautiful woman who rested on him. He wasn't here just to see Claire… now he had an actually purpose for rearing his head. He was a father and a father who would shadow over his two children for the rest of his life. He would guide them just as he wished his own father would have. He would reach out and catch their hand if ever they shall fall, and most of all, he would give them something Albert Wesker never had…

A childhood.

Wesker would be their shoulder to lean on, and a dad.

Years ago the thought of a family sickened him.

He wasn't 'daddy' material, but now, only and hour into his fatherhood, he found himself burying his old thought and emerging with new life in his swelling heart. He could almost call it love if that's what he wished to define it as.

Now he could to relate to William, whose daughter was the most important thing to him. Wesker always thought that when Will bantered about Sherry he was just trying to make him jealous.

Did it ever work?

No…

But at least now, he wished William could see him.

A dad!

The thought of his late friend made his stomach churn… William didn't deserve anything that he got. He was innocent, just a family man who worked around the clock with a cynical German.

But nonetheless, they were best friends.

A quite unlikely pair, but friends no less.

"Claire?" Wesker chimed.

"Hm?" She responded groggily.

"I vow to do whatever it takes to redeem the years lost. I swear to you that I will make up for flown time and be the best father I can be. No more trust issues, you and I. From here on out it's me and you." He told her sternly. She looked him in the eye, that demonic glow resonating from them.

"Claire Redfield, do you trust me?" He extended his hand to her.

She never broke eye contact. "I do."

**A/N: YAY! Reunited! Patrick is so cute I just wanna eat him up lol. **


	10. Our History Descends Pt I

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

**Bad things will happen soon! OH NOES! **

_**Skidney: Cliffhangers for the win!**_

_**Naoko Suki: Just like his daddy!**_

_**Chris Coard: No! He's mine! **_

_**BabyAngle-Tears: Thank you!  
><strong>_

_**MaleficMistress: Wesker, Wesker you're our man! If you can't do it no one can!**_

_**Arakane: Gooooooo Wesker! (What's with all my cheers?) lol.**_

_**SamWes: I thought you died! **_

_**Jalooloo: I love it that you love this SO MUCH! You made my day when I read your wonderful review! Steve and Claire I don't think work out because Steve (and no offense to you if you love him) was a pussy. He whined like, every 5 seconds of CVX. I like to keep Claire and Leon friends because it's kinda awkward between them at times. But when I think Claire and Wesker I see RE5 Wesker and Degeneration Claire (the newest version of her at least). I think that RE5 Wesker is when he's at the pinnacle of his sexy-ness and Degeneration Claire is the most mature version of her and I want her face she's so god damned beautiful! But thank you for your awesome review! Please stick with us! We love newbie's!**_

Chris took a long drawl from his cigarette.

The day had been quite hectic for the BSAA…

There were busy with terrorists that were… well, terrorizing America's neighboring countries. So, like any days hard work, they sent troops in to terminate and dispose of any dangerous weaponry on the scene. The American government either disassembled the weapons for parts or they used them as highly dangerous war tactics. One way or another, this made Chris' job ten times harder as he was to run into the line of fire, take a bullet or two, and the men in suits sat back and clapped.

It was all just an elaborate scheme so they wouldn't have to get up from their leather chairs.

Chris constantly considered finding another job… perhaps a Marine or something. But with all government jobs, he had to pay the price of being an operative.

Nothing more and nothing less.

He leaned up against his truck, sighing and flicking the cigarette butt onto the pavement. It was time to get home, take a shower, and wreak some zombies in COD Black Ops. He pondered on inviting Claire and the kids over. He would think on it.

Uncle Chris always rang in his ears.

It made him proud to be their uncle. Patrick and Kaya were defiantly one of a kind. They were connected in a way that reminded him of when Claire and he were younger. Patrick constantly stood up for Kaya, protecting her from minimal child-world threats. The only thing that he couldn't rid from his mind was Albert Wesker.

He was the father.

When the news had been leaked, Chris was absolutely furious. He felt as if Claire had deliberately betrayed him and their friends.

Their friends who fought Wesker off tooth and claw.

Friends who would sacrifice their very _lives _for the sake of world peace, per say a world without Albert Wesker to pull the strings on fate.

He was nothing more than a cynic who would do anything to see someone bleed. Wesker was a savage, and brute who wanted nothing more than the world in his grip so he could squeeze.

Chris and Claire were always at the end of his rage.

Rockfort Island was the worst experience the Redfield sibling would ever endure.

The shadow that loomed over the rock was nothing short of murder, decay, and deceit. The plan was never really a plan in the first place; it was just an elaborate ruse so Claire would fall right into the bear trap. She wasn't even supposed to be apart of the carnage. She just wanted to find Chris and b-line it the hell away from that place and never look back.

But Wesker was there.

It almost seemed he was everywhere.

Or maybe that was just Chris' imagination getting to him.

Anyway, Wesker was always one step ahead of Chris too.

Everything that he did, Chris would follow soon after, only to catch dust, not the man he was looking for.

The BSAA didn't have time to play Wesker's mind games, they wanted his head and they wanted it now.

But where to start.

Chris hadn't the slightest idea to where good 'ol Wesker could be hiding.

For all he knew, he could be right behind him as he thought to himself. Relishing in his confusion, for he knew that was the one thing that got to Chris hard. Frustration for the things you could be doing but didn't know how.

Everyday, it got harder and harder for the BSAA to pick up where Wesker left off. He would leave a simple trail of blood and bodies wherever he went. Carnage would ensue no more than days after in a country half way around the world. He was a shadow-like wolf that would snap at their heels, mocking them. Mocking Chris.

Wesker knew that for every day he was not caught, Chris broke a window or a door or a table. It was the fists that did the talking for Chris.

Never that big head of his.

Chris didn't care if Claire had a 'relationship' with Wesker; he cared more about what he did, why he did it, and if he ever cared anyhow. To leave his sister like that… Wesker had a lot of nerve running away! Leaving Claire to fend for herself in a world that would eat her and the kids up.

"Dirty bastard…" Chris muttered to himself. He spit on the ground, some of it on Wesker's wretched name.

It was time to retire.

Chris hopped into his black pickup and started it, AC/DC blaring on the radio. Chris rocked his head back and forth, revving the mighty V10 engine.

"Let it roar, baby!"

His car-buff brain getting into his thick head.

He was such an oaf.

He decided he was going to see Claire and the kids.

It had been a while.

**A/N: Sorry for such a short chapter. I wanted to give you one because I hadn't updated in a while. What will happen next! TUNE IN NEXT TIME! TO MERMAID MAN AND BARNICAL BOY! **


	11. Our History Descends Pt II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil:**

**DUBSTEPIN IT!**

_**SamWes: Yay! Not dead! Yeah, Chris does care, that just shows you he's not an oaf lol.**_

_**Naoko Suki: Yeah, I would be mad too! Poor Claire left all alone! **_

_**XxXEnvyxXx: Indeed!**_

_**BabyAngel-tears: Oh, it will be grand :)**_

_**Bearybeary: No, Chris is NOT happy at all! That makes for thick conflict!**_

_**Jalooloo: Keep looking for an update! I love to make all my reviewers happy! Keep reading, I enjoy your feedback! OH! RE5 IS AMAZING! WESKER IS JUST RADIATING SEXY THROUGHOUT THE WHOLE GAME! 3 **_

_**Here I stand, helpless and left for dead.  
>Close your eyes, so many days go by.<br>Easy to find what's wrong, harder to find what's right. **_

**12:19 AM**

"Aren't you afraid of death?"

"No… why?"

"Just to know that when you're gone, the world just moves on without you for years and years… it doesn't frighten you?"

"It sounds to me you're the frightened one."

"Well… well I am scared. There will come a time when the breath leaves my lungs and I'll… I'll die."

"We all have to face it someday, Dearheart. You know that as well as I."

Her soft sobs were starting to resonate within his heart; she was absolutely terrified of the word 'death'. It struck fear into her very core, and it was an enemy that Wesker could not protect her from. An enemy that was not made of flesh and bone, an enemy that could strike at any moment and Wesker would be too slow to stop it from taking her. He clutched her tighter, the sheets of her bed tangled throughout their limbs, the soft moonlight splitting the blue curtains. She snuggled into his chest; the satisfaction of having him once again warmed her.

"Albert?" She whispered to him softly.

"Yes, Claire?"

"When the world stops, will you be there to watch it with me?"

_**I believe in you,**_

_**I can show you that I can see right through all your empty lies.  
>I won't stay long, in this world so wrong.<strong>_

"I'll be there with you… as a lover, as a friend, and as a father."

At that moment, their bond was once again sealed for eternity. Nothing to break it, nothing to plow through its foundation. Their hearts would never be still again, they would beat on like boats against the shore, their memories cast into the past, the future.

The fragmented life of a workaholic and cynic and the well-put together life of a freedom fighter and an optimist. They were literally never meant to meet, to look each other in the eye, and make enemies of each other. But Wesker played his cards right and Claire just so happened to pick them up and make a hand. She was clever, he liked that, he was mysterious, she liked that a lot. After the months spent with him and the years being separated from him, Claire began to unravel is violent past, present, and future.

_**Say goodbye, as we dance with the devil tonight.  
>Don't you dare look at him in the eye.<strong>_

_**As we dance with the devil tonight.**_

**10:26 AM**

Chris knocked on Claire's door, it was sort of early but last night he decided to skip out and crash. So, now he was determined to spend the remainder of the day with her and the kids. The door flew open and Kaya raced to him.

"Uncle Chris!"

Chris laughed and swung the girl up into his arms. "What up, kiddo?"

"Nothing! I'm just watching cartoons with Pat."

XXXXX

Claire's eyes flew open at the sound of her daughter squealing. The only thing she heard was 'Uncle Chris'

"Shit…" Claire rolled out of her bed and looked around her room frantically. She bolted to her door and slammed it; she put her back to it and turned to Wesker who was sleeping like a content beast.

"Albert! Albert get up!"

He didn't respond.

Claire bent down and grabbed a discarded sweatshirt, she chucked it onto Wesker and it successfully landed on his face. He flinched and opened his eyes slowly.

"Why…?" He asked her groggily.

"Claire? Where are you?" She heard Chris call.

Wesker sat up and looked at her, "Christopher?"

She nodded. "Coming! Gotta get some clothes on, sheesh!"

Wesker nodded back and put on his shirt and pants, "I'll leave through the window then?"

Claire went up to him and hugged him tightly. "Come back?"

He buried his face into her hair, "Of course, Dearheart. Expect me."

XXXXX

Claire came down the stairs brushing her hair and smiled at Chris who had a toy gun in his hands and a plastic army helmet that was too small for his large head.

"You look great," Claire mocked.

Chris gave her a bear hug, lifting her up off the stairs. "It's good to see ya, Claire. We never hang anymore."

"It has been awhile hasn't it?"

Chris looked at her funny, almost like he was criticizing what she just said.

Claire did the same, "Is there something wrong, Chris?"

"No… you just look nervous. I don't know, I'm rambling."

"Chris… can we talk… now?"

"Sure, Claire-bear."

She pulled him into the laundry room and shut the door behind her. "I have to tell you something. I hate hiding things from you and I hate lying to you."

"What's going on, Claire?"

"He's back."

_**Trembling, crawling across my skin.  
>Feeling your cold dead eyes.<strong>_

_**Stealing the life of mine.**_

**12:00 PM**

"I drove him away, Claire." Chris said again. He had said it several times before. Claire and him argued for a while… she told him up front that she hated hiding things from him but she could have at least spared this one. Now his fears would slowly seep back it because _he _was back.

Chris thought that Wesker would never have the balls to show his face again around these parts. He faced several dangerous things:

The feds that were crawling around NY currently, combing the area for him.

And Chris.

He would extinguish everything that Wesker would do. Ruin everything that he would conjure up because that was his job.

To keep his loved ones safe.

He couldn't keep Claire safe.

But maybe she was never in danger.

It was all game, and Chris hated playing with Wesker. He was cheater and the old saying 'cheaters never prosper' is a load of bullshit. Wesker had cheated everyone out of everything and he was one of the most wanted men on earth, he was wealthy, and he was smart.

The brains that filled that man were worth trillions of dollars for companies all around. They would kill for the Intel that incased within the depths of his mind.

The sounds of Patrick talking to Claire flung Chris from his trance. He looked down at the boy who resembled Wesker greatly, and he purged his feeling to puke.

There was a knock on the door.

XXXXX

Wesker was at a shitty motel just around the block, he paid the man at the desk an extra 100 to keep his filthy mouth shut.

He wanted to be there.

He wanted to see the look on Chris' face when they met eye to eye once again. It would be satisfying to say the least. The look of absolute fear that would swipe across his face would be priceless.

Out of all the things in the world that Wesker hated, he hated these three the most of all:

Waiting.

Bad karma.

And Christopher Redfield.

He was a thorn in his side that he just couldn't get rid of. Wherever he was Chris followed like a puppy.

It was almost as irritating as lab work.

No, he _wouldn't _wait for Claire to call him.

He was going back to that damned house and he was going to get what he wanted.

Because Albert Wesker never waited for anything.

_**I believe in you, **_

_**I can show you that I can see right through all your empty lies.  
>I won't last long, in this world so wrong.<strong>_

XXXXX

Chris walked over to the door, adjusting the ridiculous plastic army hat on his head.

"Redfield residence." Chris said flatly.

Wesker acknowledged the helmet on his head and smirked wickedly. "Christopher, you're looking… decent these days."

**A/N: One more part to the three part chapter block… thingy. Will Chris take this lightly? (unlikely) stick around and find out!**


	12. Our History Descends Pt III

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

**This is the last part of the triplet chapter block thing… whatever you wish to call it.**

_**XxXEnvyxXx: Exciting is exactly the word for this!**_

_**BabyAngle-tears: Haha, mean is a good word. I love giving you guy's cliff-hangers! It keeps you reading!**_

_**Skidney: LOVE! LOVE! "That was easy!" (Easy button lol) **_

_**Falldew: Such a kick-ass guy! Mayhaps, Jill may tag along with Chris or something. **_

_**Jalooloo: Thank you for loving me! I try to update at least once every week but sometimes I get delayed because of school and stuff. Haha, no you're fine! Not stalker at all. Yep, I live in American but I'm not like… pure American. I'm Russian and Korean, but born and raised in America. SO, I guess lol. **_

_**Naoko Suki: YEAH CHRIS! GET THAT FAT ASS MOVIN! Lol. **_

_**Chris Coard: FIGHT TO THE DEATH! NOW! LOL! **_

_**Bearybeary! Me too! … Oh wait; I'm the one who's writing this lol…**_

_**MaleficMistress: Claire: Will have a break down because Chris and Wesker are. Chris: Will overact and something bad will happen. Wesker: Will find some sort of entertainment in all of it somehow. **_

"You can't be serious…" Chris grumbled angrily.

Wesker smirked again and nodded, "Sorry to burst your hypothetical bubble but, I am."

"I should just shut this door in your face, Wesker."

"Now that would be quite rude."

"Fuck you!" Chris roared and slammed the door but Wesker stopped it with his gloved palm, making it splitter on impact.

"Albert!" Claire scolded.

Wesker forced Chris out of the way and shut the door nicely behind him. "Sorry, Dearheart. I'll fix that."

Claire crossed her arms and walked in between Wesker and Chris. "You better!"

"Wesker! I oughta put a bullet in your eye!" Chris barked while whipping his gun from its holster.

"No!" Patrick raced over to his father's side and pleaded Chris with his forest eyes. "Don't touch him, Chris!"

Claire had seen this before… when Patrick fought for Kaya. He would risk life and limb to see his loved ones safe. And although he had only known Wesker for one day, that didn't shatter his love for his father.

"Ah, Pat! You gotta be kidding me! You too? When are your kids gonna learn, Claire that their dad is a killer?"

"They don't need to know." Wesker said flatly. "All they need to be concerned about is the gun in your hand."

Chris huffed and shoved it back into the holster. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't cap your head clean off your shoulders…"

"Because I matter now."

"What?" Chris asked puzzled.

"I'm a father now, Chris. I may not be the best, hell, I don't even know it I can do it. But what I do know is that I'm capable of changing my children's lives so that they may have a dad."

"I find it _really _hard to find _any _truth in your words, Wesker. I know you too well."

"You don't know me, you brute." Wesker spat. "You don't even know the half of it."

Chris took a step forward. "Oh yeah?"

Wesker did the same, "Yeah!"

Claire pushed Chris back with some force and grabbed Wesker by his shoulder. Patrick whimpered just when he thought the two men were going to rip each others throats out. He saw the animals come out in them.

Uncle Chris was an angry lion with pride to flash all around.

And his father was an exiled wolf with claws to rip and tear.

He didn't know which one to cheer on.

He loved them both equally. Patrick didn't know what Chris was talking about when he said his father was a killer. He didn't look like one… at least he thought so.

Wesker chuckled deeply. "Are you really considering fighting me? Right here? Right now?"

"Bring it on, you fucker!"

"Christopher, there are two things wrong with your theory." Wesker started the mocking game. "One: This is defiantly the most unsuitable place to fight." He chuckled again, only more sinister this time. "And two: …" Wesker looked up at Chris, his un-shaded eyes burning right into him. "I don't feel murderous tonight."

Anger.

Hatred.

And revenge.

All of these things and then some were compelling Chris Redfield to kill the demon where he stood.

Guilt.

Tenacity.

And curiosity.

All of these things held him back.

XXXXX

Claire had managed to keep the men separated and in different rooms.

"You can't start a bloodbath in my house, Albert." She told him while making coffee in the kitchen. Wesker leaned against the fridge and sighed.

"I'm aware, but then Chris needs to hold his tongue."

"And you need to hold your fist!"

"No fighting," Wesker said agreeing. He walked over to Claire and kissed her lips. "I promise."

Claire kissed him back, "Oh and that little stunt you pulled with coming back when you knew Chris was here, was _not _funny, Albert."

Wesker shrugged and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I thought it would be fun to start World War Three."

Claire haha-ed him sarcastically.

"You know I always know what I'm doing… Chris on the other hand…"

Claire caught him mid sentence. "Ah! No insults!"

Wesker sighed over-dramatically. "Fine."

Claire kissed his cheek and winked at him. "Good boy."

XXXXX

Meanwhile…

Chris was in the living room.

Waiting.

Again…

Claire and Wesker were in the kitchen chatting. He could hear their muffled voices but only received the smell of fresh coffee. She didn't like to entertain the fact that Wesker was a part Claire's life. It was the worst thing she could have ever done to him!

He was a brute!

A sinister, conniving, and might Chris mention, unstable man! I mean come _on! _Just look at the guy!

Well… well at first glance, Wesker just looked like a business man with eye problems. But once you got to 'know' him, once you got into his head and he got into yours, he was a god-like creature with god-like abilities. He could send you flying into the air with the flick of his wrist. Spiral you out of control if he even so much as flashed you a wicked smile.

Whatever went on up in his head, Chris didn't want to know.

Now all the big brother could do, and he didn't like his options, was wait.

**A/N: AH YEAH! Chris and Wesker meet again! Not much fighting because our boys have to save their strength for another time and place! *hint* *hint* FORESHADOWING! **


	13. For Lack Of A Better Name

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

_**Skidney: Wesker's WWIII would be the most dangerous thing in the world. WORSE THAN AN ALIEN INVASION!**_

_**Bearybeary: They won't fight for a while.**_

_**SamWes: Cliffhangers for the win.**_

_**BabyAngle-Tears: HA! RE4 joke! Um, yeah I sorta noticed that too and this chapter is full of her. I totes forgot for a minute and then you read my mind when I read this review. **_

_**Jalooloo: RE5 was awesome and RE4 was good too but not enough Wesker! Bear, you are such a beast! I went hunting over the weekend and killed my first 8 point buck! So squeezing the guts from a lizard is nothing compared to dragging a 125 pound buck back to your house bleeding and dying still! (Cause, I killed it in my backyard) Oh well, dinner for a week! AH! I love Australia! Lucky! **_

_**Naoko Suki: Yes, yes they will fight indeed! Chris! Stop being an inconsiderate jerk and calm your tits! **_

_**Maleficmistress: DING! DING! DING! IN THIS CORNER, THE ROOTIN' TOOTIN TOUGH OLD CHRIS RIOTER REDFIELD! AND IN THIS CORNER, THE MIGHTY ALBERT WOLF-HEART WEKSER! LADIES AND GENTLEMAN, THIS IS A FIGHT TO THE DEATH! **_

_**Chris Coard: WWIII would be like, zombie soldiers lol. **_

_**XxXEnvyxXx: Well, this chapter is just a chill chapter cause some people *cough* Chris *cough* Wesker, have to simmer down a tad. **_

_**Hermit crabs and cowry shells,  
>Crush beneath his feet as he comes towards you.<br>He's waving at you.**_

"You see those stars right there?" Wesker asked.

The twins nodded and pointed where he did. "Those ones?"

"Yes, those are your ancestors looking down on you, protecting you. Making sure you always do the right thing."

"Do you always do the right thing, dad?" Kaya asked.

Wesker shifted from his spot in the grass, and readjusted his arms under his head. "I try," He responded to his daughter. "But sometimes you have to break rules to make new ones."

"Mom always told us that you were a rule breaker." The girl laughed.

Wesker and Patrick joined her. "I try to be the best man I can be, and from now on I'll try to be there for you two and your mother. There's going to be some changes around here, no more will you have to worry about me… because I'm here. Now and forever."

"What about that star, dad?" Kaya asked him, pointing to a line of stars that projected into the night sky.

"That's Orion."

"Is he stuck up there, dad?"

"Well, the three stars that align represent his belt. And it's said that Orion was fighting Taurus the bull with his two hunting dogs. And the dogs remain at his masters side," Wesker pointed to the left and right of the belt. "Right there. Canis Major and Canis Minor."

_**Lift him up to see what you can see,  
>He begins his focusing.<br>He's aiming at you.**_

"And when I was growing up, my mother used to tell me that our ancestors, who are tumbling in the sky with the stars, would plead the mighty Orion to watch over the Wesker family. To put belief in their hearts, give the gift of life to her children and their children as well."

"Do you believe her?" Patrick said to him.

"I did… when I was a child. But after years and years of silent suffering, I began to question. Did anyone up there really care about me? Did anyone see the point in trying to show me the way?"

"I care, daddy." Kaya said softly, as though she didn't want her father to hear.

Wesker didn't respond… and maybe it was because he did not know how. He had never really had many people to care for him, save for Claire. The fact that now he could come home to something that would brighten his weary day made him inwardly smile. He felt awkward though, he would have to learn slowly to become a father. He would have to teach himself and be taught. Wesker would have to willingly commit to something that many a man would never.

_**And now he has cutaways from memories,  
>And close-ups of anything that,<br>He has seen or even dreamed.  
>And now he's finished focusing.<strong>_

The worse of time had robbed him of everything he had worked for and slapped him in the face. It would not relent the victory of claiming Albert Wesker's soul, for he would only fight harder and harder. He would be ready to rise upon the force and conquer it.

Conquer himself.

"Patrick? Kaya?" Wesker asked his silent children. "When you grow up, you'll understand why I left. I don't want you to think about it, I just want you to forget about it until the time comes."

"You promise that one day you'll be there to tell us?" Patrick asked.

"I promise."

XXXXX

Wesker had sent the kids inside.

He didn't want Claire to flip a lid because they were up past nine on a school night. He would respect her rules.

The front door opened and Claire came out with a cup of coffee for him.

"Thank you," Wesker said, grabbing the mug. Claire sat next to him on the porch, he had moved there after lying in the grass with the twins. He took a sip and closed his eyes; it had been a while since he had a good coffee.

"Albert?"

"Claire?"

"I don't want you to feel like you have to do this. If you don't feel like you're ready than I don't want to force you."

Wesker chuckled, "Dearheart, I'll never be ready to be a dad. But the least I could do is try and hopefully they'll turn out perfect when we're done."

"The both of them are more like you than you will ever know." She tilted her head to face him, she could feel his eyes on her. She knew he wasn't avoiding her gaze but she wanted to be sure. Claire reached up and slipped his sunglasses from his face, and sure enough, Wesker was looking right at her, boring his demon eyes into her own angelic blue ones. "You look better with those off, you know." She kissed him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Wesker rested his forehead on hers and looked into the depths of the ocean-like eyes.

"You give me something to die for, Claire. I've never had that."

"Not even your research, your work?"

"It means nothing to me anymore. I've found you; and I can now claim you as mine once again."

_**He's imagining lightning,  
>Striking sea sickness.<br>Away from here.  
>Look who's laughing now that you've wasted…<br>How many years and you've barely even tasted.  
>Anything remotely close to,<br>Everything you've boasted about.  
>Look who's crying now. <strong>_

"The mighty have fallen." Claire said to herself.

"But I've fallen safely."

There were headlights that pulled up into Claire's driveway, it was Chris' Jeep. He hopped out of the car and slumped his shoulders when he was Wesker.

"Evening, Christopher." Wesker greeted sarcastically.

Chris only sneered and crossed his arms. "Claire, can we talk?"

She didn't say a word; she only followed Chris to the driveway, leaving Wesker alone on the porch.

XXXXX

"You can't be serious? Do you know how pissed Wesker will be?"

"Yeah, Claire I know but if he wants to live, he has to leave. The BSAA won't let him get away this time…"

"They never let him 'get away', Chris" Claire said sternly. "They could never hold onto him!"

"I won't hold back, Claire. Wesker is my mission, it's _my _job to take him out and just because he's here doesn't mean I won't hesitate next time I see him."

"Chris you can't take him away if he hasn't done anything!" Claire yelled.

"Yes I can! Claire, he is bioterrorism's number one man! You can't go around telling yourself that he's changed because it's _not true. _You can't be modest anymore, it's Wesker!"

_**Driftwood floats, after years of erosion,  
>Incoming tide touches roots to expose them,<br>Quicksand steals my shoe,  
>Clouds bring the f-stop blues.<strong>_

"When and if you ever get the chance, just make sure we're not here to see… I don't want Patrick and Kaya watching you tear their father away from them."

"Claire… it doesn't matter how many years pass between you and I, but I wont lie to you, I will never forgive you for what you did with him."

"And I'll never forgive you if you do this."

XXXXX

Chris left Claire to ponder while he was going to warn Wesker. At least he was being courteous enough to tell him to split town.

"Wesker," Chris greeted while pulling out a cigarette from his pocket. "We need to have a little chat."

"Go on," Wesker stated.

"I hope you know that this isn't the end."

"The end of us fighting for the world, or the end of us being enemies?"

"Both. You know you aren't safe here so why did you come?"

"I wanted to see." Wesker replied plainly.

"Well I'm sure you've seen all you need to see… now I want you to go."

Wesker didn't look too happy with Chris' response, his blood boiled with anger that seethed right under his skin. "Don't tell me what to do, Christopher."

"I'm not telling you, I'm asking you."

"And what if I don't feel like it?"

"Then I'll be forced to take you in, Wesker. You know who you are; you know the consequences of showing your face."

"You're asking for a fight, Christopher…" Wesker warned.

"Well I'm most certainly not asking you to dance," Chris said harshly, pulling out his gun.

Wesker cracked his neck and then his knuckles, "Welcome to hell, Redfield."

He was gone in a black mist, making Chris' eyes widen, he was fast. Chris was kneed in the gut and he doubled over, letting Wesker force him down and take his gun. Wesker disposed of the weapon by breaking it in half.

Chris took a swing, missed and tried again. "Hold _still _you motherfucker!"

"Starting to tire?" Wesker asked smugly, dodging every one of Chris' desperate punches and kicks.

Chris was now heaving with exhaustion; he couldn't land one blow on Wesker. It was hard to keep up with him when everywhere you looked, he was no longer there. He heard Wesker laugh mockingly, and Chris took a hard punch to the jaw that sent him flying into across the porch. He scrambled to his feet, but was winded when Wesker grabbed him by the throat and lifted him up off the ground.

"I'm not afraid of you Wesker!" Chris yelled, spitting on the ground next to his boot.

Wesker laughed menacingly, it was sickening enough to send chills down Chris' spine. "You should be."

The breath was slowly leaving his lungs as he struggled to turn the fight around. "It really is a shame that you have to die so pathetically, I didn't have much fun."

"Stop!"

Both of the men turned to face Claire who had returned to the porch.

"Albert Wesker, you put him down right now or so help me god…" Claire seethed, she was pissed and didn't seem too pleased that he was about to murder her brother.

Wesker dropped Chris onto the porch unceremoniously and he heaved for air to fill his parched lungs.

"Chris, in the car, now."

He nodded and held his throat wincing.

"And as for you," Claire walked up to Wesker who surprisingly took a step back. "What in the hell were you _thinking_?"

"He started it…"

"It doesn't fucking matter! You two have to settle you differences or ultimately, one of you will have to leave. Honestly, you're adults you fight like kids!"

"Claire you're going to have to deal with Chris and I. You have no idea what the history is and as much as you like to think you do, there is nothing you know that benefits your argument. Every day that passes with us two forces remaining on Earth, we will never be at peace and you'll be stuck with cleaning our wounds."

"If this lasts, I won't be there anymore to do that for you."

"If it lasts,' Wesker repeated, "I alone will stand the victor."

"You're that confident huh?"

"There isn't a day that passes when I'm not. I know what I'm 'fighting' for, Chris, however, has no idea. Not yet."

_**Look who's laughing now that you've wasted…  
>How many years and you've barely even tasted.<br>Anything remotely close to,**_

_**Everything you've boasted about,  
>Look who's crying now.<strong>_

"You walk a lonely road, Albert." Claire told his sadly. "I don't want to lose you again."

"I can't promise you anything." Wesker responded.

He looked beyond the city lights, and the clouds that still remained in the night sky. He looked for the stars that his mother told him would always guide him, and he wondered if the luck they were said to give, would rub off on him.

Because as of now, the future didn't look too bright.

**A/N: I sorta suck at fight scenes… anyways! Drama, drama, drama! The boys just can't hold in their hate for each other can they?**


	14. Stay Awake

**Disclaimer: I don't own RE.**

_**XxMyxGuardianxAngelxxX**__**: Thank you so much for loving it! I love getting new reviewers! Please, have a seat and stick around! OH! RE5 Wesker is the best! And Claire is just freaking beautiful! LEON! HELP!**_

_**Ikisha: Thank you! **_

_**Naoko Suki: CHRIS! You go sit in that corner and Wesker; you go sit in that corner! And don't you DARE come out until you've thought of an apology! Lol. **_

_**Jeanne Cyrill: ALBERT! TAKE IT OFF! **_

_**Bearybeary: Thanks :) Hey, your review sent twice… do you know why?**_

_**XxXEnvyxXx: You know, I was gonna do that then I realized that they had been in bed for quite some time and I didn't think that a ruckus like that was going to wake them.**_

He looked at the man staring back at him in the mirror.

He saw his skin, tanned and tight on his face, and then he swiped his hand along his on-coming beard that lined his strong jaw. His eyes were a spectacle, in what some may call, demonic. Animalistic in their nature. His expression: hard, it showed little emotion… nothing to break the shell of stone. Wesker was not very pleased with his appearance, it was guilty, shameful perhaps. He couldn't focus on what was at hand, his family. At first, it enlightened him to be something no one thought he could ever manage: A father.

The stars wouldn't always show Wesker the way, he finally found himself having to rely on others for help when it was needed. Wesker didn't want to pity himself… it was never in his nature to find sorrow for anyone. But as the moon rode high in the midnight city, he was forced to beg himself to sleep on it. He made his way up the stairs, peeking into the cracked door of his children's room. The window was open on the other side, allowing the wind to billow through coldly. He crossed, closing it and gazed upon his creations. Not creations manufactured in a laboratory, but something of flesh and blood, without an artificial, beating heart. Something that was able to love, feel pain, feel sorrow in ones heart.

A soul.

Free to think, and free to react.

Wesker exited the room, taking one last glance behind his shoulder to watch his son stir under the spaceship comforter.

Wesker sulked tiredly down the hallway to Claire's room, thinking more than he was walking.

He couldn't go back to Prague. Well… maybe it was because he didn't want to.

Although, Wesker knew that he would eventually have to return to finish what he had started.

"It can wait until then…" Wesker spoke lowly to himself. He reached for the doorknob and turned it as if he was anticipating something… but as he swayed it open, there was nothing in the room.

The bed was right there, begging him to sleep and he would comply. He took off his shirt as he neared Claire's dresser, he folded it nicely and set it atop the piece of furniture. There was suddenly another presence in the room, although it was friendly, it was upset… unhappy.

"You smell like smoke, Claire." Wesker chimed at her without turning to face her.

"I couldn't help it," She confessed. "I'm just ten times more stressed then I usually am."

Wesker turned around and she was right there, vulnerable as if she wanted to submit to him but he wouldn't accept. They were done playing that game, it was almost as if she wanted to turn it into something else that it wouldn't ever be, and maybe Wesker would be foolish enough to try her.

She was holding a book in her hands—she handed it to Wesker without saying anything, and he didn't know what was being held until he flipped the book over to the cover.

"_The Great Gatsby"_

"Where… did you find this?"

Claire smiled at his dumbfounded reaction. "When Chris and Jill rummaged through the RPD after the missile hit, they went through the S.T.A.R.S. offices too."

"Or what was left of them." Wesker chimed quietly.

"They about your office and found that. They knew it was yours so they gave it to me as a… oh, a gift sorta. To remember you, wherever you might have been. Chris, although he was still upset about it, didn't want me to forget you because he knew how much you meant to me. And then Patrick found it."

Wesker didn't speak, he gazed at his book, wondering how in the hell it survived a nuclear missile.

"He said that you and Gatsby were looking high and low for something that you already had and you just didn't know it. But you were also lost and didn't know witch road to go down because both of them looked wrong…"

Wesker chuckled, "The boy is certainly my son." 

"He's more like you than you will ever know, and I'm so proud of him, Albert. And you should be too. Proud of both of them. They continued to hope for the best when things sucked around here."

Wesker didn't speak because he had nothing more to say, he wanted to watch and wait. The day would come when his bond with his children was tested and they would have to trust their friends and family, but most of all, their enemies. Wesker nightmare wouldn't come true for quite some time, but every passing moment he anticipated it like it was right around the corner, unstoppable.

Setting the book down on the dresser, he kissed Claire and picked her up off the ground, holding her bridal style. She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled up at him.

"To bed, Ms. Redfield?" He asked her, grinning his Cheshire-like smile.

"To bed, Mr. Wesker." Claire responded, awaiting the silk sheets of her bed, once again able to lay upon a bed with Albert Wesker.

XXXXX

"Daddy?" Kaya shook her fathers shoulder trying to rouse him from his sleep. "Dad! Wake up!"

She looked over at Patrick who glanced nervously at the clock. "Hurry!" He whispered loudly.

"I'm trying!" She pinched Wesker's ear which made him flinch and snap open his rubicund eyes. "Daddy! Hurry up you're gonna miss it!"

"Miss what?" Wesker groaned quietly.

"You'll see!" Patrick chided his father.

Kaya pulled him out of the bed by his arm and brought him into the front yard in nothing more than a pair of sweatpants.

"The sunrise?" He asked.

"Isn't it pretty, daddy?" Kaya asked him, looking up at her father.

"Beautiful…" He said softly. The sky was swathed with several colors that mixed into one another, swirling about the sky like a dragon's mighty fire. There were birds flying high, black against the rising sun and its pallet of warm colors. It was something right out of a painting, as if Van Gough had used Earth's sky as a canvas, swiping his brush along the horizon to make a masterpiece that would rise every morning to greet what was left of the nightlife and what was beginning of the day life.

"Mommy always says that a sunrise is Mother Nature welcoming new life everyday." Kaya said.

Maybe this was Mother Nature welcoming Wesker's new life, as corny as it sounded; it was just a shitty metaphor that Wesker didn't want to crush. It was his second chance to prove to the world that he could be a better man.

For it was life who gave him the chance in the first place.

**A/N: Sorry its so short :p **


	15. One Foot In The Grave

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any characters affiliated with it.**

**Ok so I hope you guys read theses before you start and right now, this is sort of a short intro to the villain of this story. I won't reveal much because that would just ruin the surprise! Sorry this is so short but the way it ends, there is no need for more! **

_**BabyAngel-Tears: Oh! Ok!**_

_**XxMyxGuardianxAngelxxX: Aw! I hope you get better! I hate being sick! HA! I loved that movie when I was a kid! Shark Boy and Lava Girl forever! Harry Potter = Love.**_

_**XxXEnvyxXx: Oh what happens next is quite the surprise! MUHAHAHAHAHAHA!**_

_**Jalooloo: I love animals too but we're humans, we gotta eat. Now, if you're like my best friend she's a vegetarian and I don't know how she does it! I'm actually 4 foot 11 and weigh a solid 100 pounds. I'm just super strong because I've been working my ass off since the day I could walk lol. And don't call yourself fat! Beauty comes in every form! Ya know, I like Billy but not as much as I like WESKER! **_

_**Naoko Suki: You read my mind all the time! You are so right, Chris' hatred will never measure up for the love Chris holds for Claire and all's he's trying to do is protect her and I think Wesker doesn't see it right.**_

_**Maleficmistress: I know! He's gotta feel bad so much, just the pain of going through everything that he has too, poor guy :(. **_

**Chapter 15: One Foot in the Grave**

I don't condone violence, I don't believe in its purposes. For violent men meet violent ends. Here we believe that in turn for such a pressing matter, the key to getting what we want comes in the form of negotiation. For now, only one man will meet his doom, the way it is executed is ultimately my decision yet, I find it painfully difficult to eradicate your life and I also find it troublesome to murder family.

Before we even consider such violent measures, we get into your head, burrow into your brain.

See what most men are afraid to look for.

I could have more fun and turn you against yourself and when you can't trust yourself, you can't trust anyone. It will be quite bittersweet to watch you go, for most believed you had much going for you. But unfortunately, only one was created to prevail.

And father would have wanted me to rise.

He hated you, and then that hate rubbed off, sticking to you like dried blood on a wolf's maw. He brought out the animal in you, that feral beast with an uncontrollable temper. Dearest brother, you shouldn't have let me go that nigh—you have no idea to what it resulted in. the hunger for power that we both kill for, great minds think alike I suppose.

Here we will witness the rise and fall of a Demi-God.

Everything you have done I will do better.

Everything that compelled you, I will take away.

The remainder of your worthless life will be lived in pain and sorrow knowing that I accomplished something you could never. I have waited long enough, watching you excel, watching you rise against your countless enemies, burning them down as you tore them apart. Yet, you were, and still are, blind to your hidden foe. One that has waited and will continue if need be. Your time has come, brother. Falling will be much worse than you could ever imagine.

Please be on your best behavior until that time comes, and until then, continue to face the tempest of dust that clouds your poor judgment.


	16. Holes To Heaven

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

**Sorry for such a long wait you guys! I've been busy with Christmas stuff and I'm sure most of you have too! Enjoy your holidays and new years! Here is your chapter! Merry Christmas!**

_**XxXEnvyxXx: No it wasn't a poem but I guess it was beautiful enough to be one! Haha jk. **_

_**Chris Coard: Hey there you are! Come out from hiding! Yeah, the world is full of hate and a lot of it is because Wesker!**_

_**Ikisha: Thank you! Stick around! **_

_**Bhernandez02897: Thank you for all of your wonderful reviews! You are awesome! Stick around and keep reading because I love new reviewers! **_

_**SamWes: You came back too! Oh! Maybe! That's a good idea, point taken, Wes!**_

_**XxMyxGuardianxAngelxxX: I saw the trailers for that! Looks real good! But yeah! You'll all have to wait for the reveal of the villain! No peeks even if it is Christmas! **_

_**Maleficmistress: Thank you! Beautifully disturbing! MUHAHAHAHAHA! Ah the villain is narrating, not Wesker, some people got confused. But it is the villain of this story. **_

_**Naoko Suki: YOU'LL HAVE TO WAIT MUHAHAHA! **_

_**Tomoko Takami: Hello! You're back! With a new style! Thanks for the review!**_

**Chapter 16: Holes to Heaven **

The smell of bacon and coffee assaulted Wesker's nose… it was right in front of him. His mouth began to water and he tried to remember the last time he had a craving for food. At the moment, his eyes refused to open. He was genuinely exhausted from months of no sleep because he did not require it.

"Daddy," the sweet angelic voice filled his ears. "Daddy wake up, breakfast is ready!"

Wesker groaned and rolled over, covering himself with the sheet and trying to shield his eyes from the sunlight when his daughter opened the shades of his bedroom. "Five more minutes…" he grumbled to her.

"But, dad! It's gonna be cold in five minutes! And bacon isn't good when it's cold! I'm gonna get mom to tickle you awake!" The little girl set the plate of food down on the nightstand and padded into the hallway. "MOMMY!" She cried down the stairs. "Daddy's being lazy!"

Claire came to the bottom of the stairs and laughed, "Albert! Don't make me come up there!" There was no response but then again, she didn't expect one. When Wesker wanted to be, he was lazy. But he rarely was considering his line of work and when he worked, he would be up from the butt crack of dawn and never lay down his pen and paper. She walked up the stairs and gave her daughter a playful tickle under the neck.

Claire walked into the doorway and turned around to give Kaya the thumbs up before she ran across the room and landed on the bed, making Wesker jolt semi-awake. He wrapped an arm around her neck and dragged her down into the sea of blankets and sheets. Wesker laughed and hadn't released emotions such as these in quite some time. He was a shut-in after he left Claire; he worked day and night with a coffee in between and occasionally a good steak. Claire kissed his ear, and then bit his earlobe. Wesker yelped at the diminutive pain that resided there. Kaya rolled her eyes and shut the door behind her, "Mommy that's gross!" The girl had left to pester Patrick.

Wesker squeezed the back of her neck fiercely; something that he knew turned her on. "Albert! Not right now!" He sighed and began to rub the skin he wrenched. "Later tonight… ok?"

Wesker kissed her, "Alright but I'm holding you to it."

XXXXX

Claire had cleaned up the house he remainder of the day, scrubbing away at mildew in the bathroom, dusting behind the PS3, and fixing the leaky pipe under the sink.

Wesker?

Not very much help at the moment… seeing that he was gone.

Claire didn't see him leave nor did the kids. She wondered if business called and he had to run somewhere. Claire wasn't surprised he was gone; she actually expected a dismayed absence. Although she had been ecstatic when he had come home, she had a gut feeling that he would have to leave again. This time, maybe it wasn't work, maybe he would leave because he was impossible to tie down. He was afraid and he just wouldn't admit it. Wesker was only afraid of three things and this Claire knew for sure:

The fact the Death was still a worthy opponent.

Losing Claire and his newfound children.

And an unseen enemy he knew was out there somewhere lurking in the fog.

Albert Wesker wasn't a coward and Claire never thought he was one. In fact, he was the bravest man she has ever known. Not only was he well-rounded, handsome, and a gentleman, he was a fighter. Maybe not a fighter for human rights like Chris, but a fighter for what he believed in. Not many agreed with him, hell, not even Claire. But although so many people spat on his name they were no match for his tenacity. He would step on you just to get a little higher, and when he had reached the top, he wouldn't let you climb his stairs, he would only burn them. Wesker was also a man that didn't take too lightly on "relationships" with other living creatures. Claire and his children were an exception, but basic human communication was something that Wesker hated doing. He found it pointless, diminutive, and a complete waste of his time. To put it lightly, if you were on fire and Wesker had a glass of water, he would rather drink it instead.

The sudden ringing of the house phone pulled Claire from her thoughts.

"Hello?"

"Dearheart, it's me. I'd like you to meet me at the Ferguson Hotel; I have something really nice in store for you."

Claire didn't know what to say, it was sudden but then again, she was kind of used to that already. "I guess…"

"Dress sharp." He added before he hung up in silence.

Claire guessed that she had twenty minutes before Wesker grew impatient and called her again, so she arranged a babysitter and told the kids that she was going out with dad.

XXXXX

Claire drove up to the hotel and gave the valet her keys to the white Audi A4.

She was clad in a knee length black dress that cut semi-deep into her cleavage area and followed suit by exposing some of her collar bone. Her hair was down and curled, the way she always did when she went out. She was accented by red lipstick and light smokey eye shadow that brought out the blue of her eyes. She walked upon a pair of strappy three inch black heels that clicked when she walked along the tiled floor. She asked the desk for a man who checked in, Wesker. They addressed her and told her that he was in the dining room, expecting a young lady that they assumed was her.

Claire scanned the room for Wesker.

There were a fair amount of strangers in the room, dining and enjoying expensive wines. She spotted the back of his head smiled and she rounded the room to join him.

"I was beginning to worry, Dearheart." He said smugly.

"Oh you know I'd never pass up a date with you." She responded just as smug as him.

"Wine?"

"Please."

He poured her a glass and sat back to admire her and she him.

He was dressed in a suit that was all black aside the undershirt which was white. His cuffs were white as well and both were adorned with small, gold buttons. His ubiquitous sunglasses were plastered to his tanned face, resting just right on his chiseled nose. He was also wearing a silver Rolex watch that he seemed to glace at from time to time. His hair was slicked back like it usually was, the strands never falling out of place besides the times he would tousle it during sleep.

"You look marvelous tonight, Claire." He complimented her, smiling.

She smiled back and took his hand, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. "You look super sexy."

Wesker chuckled and kissed her other hand.

"Why did you invite me to this?"

"I thought we could catch up a little, after all, when was the last time we had a nice night together?"

"A while…" Claire muttered.

"Exactly." He chimed. There was smooth jazz that wafted through the dining hall and Claire knew it was the tune of "Call Me Irresponsible." She could almost hear the words to the song.

_**Call me irresponsible - call me unreliable.  
>Throw in undependable too.<br>Do my foolish alibis bore you?  
>Well I'm not too clever - I just adore you.<strong>_

Claire and Wesker didn't end up chatting in the dining hall, or eating for that matter. But they ended up in the room Wesker checked into.

He shut the door lightly behind her and Wesker could smell the fear on her. "Why are you afraid?" he asked her politely.

"Not afraid," She said quietly, back to him. "Just nervous."

He approached her, wrapping his arms around her waist, "It _has_ been quite some time now, hasn't it?" He asked her, kissing her neck.

"Just… be gentle?"

Wesker chuckled, "Of course, Dearheart." He began to untie and unzip the back of her dress, it was cheap because she had a feeling that he would resort to ripping it.

It was slipping from her skin moments later, landing on the carpeted floor with no sound. She turned around in his arms, cupping his face in her hands, kissing him tenderly. He made quick work of her bra and tossed it somewhere among the room. Claire removed his sunglasses and dropped them to the ground and began to work his belt. He chuckled in her ear from her struggle with the damn thing. She finally was able to tug it from its loops and snake it to the floor. She tossed his jacket down and began to unbutton his shirt. Wesker picked Claire up and moved her to the bed, throwing her down lightly and claimed his place above her. He slithered a finger into the waistband of her panties and she gave him that look, the look when she knew something was going to happen that ultimately was going to disappoint her. He ripped them right from her, just what she had expected.

_**Call me unpredictable - tell me I'm impractical.  
>Rainbows I'm inclined to pursue.<br>Call me irresponsible - yes I'm unreliable.  
>But it's undeniably true - I'm irresponsibly mad for you.<strong>_

Claire got Wesker out of his shirt and pants as he assaulted her neck and lips with his own, making her whisper breathless moans into his ear. She tugged at his black boxer briefs, making him growl like an animal. She slid them from him and he kicked them off, unable to contain himself anymore. He thrust into her slowly, relishing in this feeling again.

Claiming Claire Redfield as his once more.

She moaned, clutching his shoulders, nails digging into his skin just the way he liked it. He began to move in and out steadily, gaining several satisfactory groans from Claire. He looked down at her, kissing her softly, drinking in all that she was to him, smelling the sweet aroma of her, and the passion that clung to it. There was sweat that was already accumulating on her skin, she hadn't been connected with Wesker in years, and it felt like her ultimate release to be with him again like this.

"Albert…" She began breathlessly, "I love you."

The disappointment that she had expected did not come, in fact he only continued, smiling down at her, his red eyes swimming with lust. "I love you too, Claire."

She ran her fingers through his hair, gaining that growl from him that sent shivers down his spine. His skin was cold while hers warm, she almost felt as if he was dead, just a ghost because of how cold he always was.

Claire yelled out, for Wesker quickened his pace, unable to contain that animal. She would let him; it was, in fact, almost stupid to say no to him.

The slick sound of her sex was making Wesker hungrier for her release that he had been waiting for, the sound of her countless, hollowed moans and his name tied within it all. He kissed her stomach, and made his way up to her ear as her breath left her with every thrust he sunk into her. "I love you…" he repeated, really meaning what he had said.

Claire closed her eyes, drinking in his words… love.

For she knew it could exist between them, she just never thought that it would really come true. Her life was most defiantly not a fairy tale; she had fallen victim to a man who was irrevocably irresistible.

Albert Wesker.

And he had fallen into game with her by fate; she was a troublemaker that he was willing to discipline.

Claire Redfield.

Somehow, their lives were flipped upside-down and it just so happened they fell into the wrong place at the wrong time and yet, it brought them together.

It was at this moment, Wesker began to growl with every thrust, and it was at this moment that Claire began to flutter her eyes from exhaustion.

"Open you eyes, Claire." He asked her, cupping her cheek with one hand and using the other to hold himself up. She turned her head to him, lips parted, so ready to come. "Look at me, baby." The affection that welled within his plead made Claire gaze into his garnet-like hues. He made one last thrust that send Claire yelling out his name as her eyes widened and Wesker's lips crushed upon her own. He growled fiercely as he came shortly after her.

He lay down beside her, stroking her hair downward, kissing her hand that was placed on his cheek.

Wesker's husky voice filled the room as he hummed the tune of Call me Irresponsible, lulling Claire to sleep in his arms that were once used to harm her.

Nevermore.

**A/N: Ok, its time to go to bed! Merry Christmas to all! Love you guys!**


	17. Bending Not Breaking

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

**Hope you guys had a wonderful Christmas and New Year! Now it's time to start off the new year fresh! Get out there and do your best! I probably sound like your mother!**

_**Ikisha: Thank you!**_

_**XxMyxGuardianxAngelxxX: I love that movie! Makes me cry at the end every time! I love nine inch nails and you know, I think I'll use that song in another chapter. Yes! I LOVE YOU!**_

_**Naoko Suki: Thank you!**_

_**Scarlet Larkin: Thank you so much! Please stick around! I love new reviewers!**_

_**Bhernandez02897: You're welcome!**_

_**Tomoko Takami: Aw, I hate being sick! **_

_**Chris Coard: Thank you good sir!**_

**Chapter 17: Bending not Breaking**

Wesker heaved a cough into his sleeve, blood flecking his white shirt.

Not good.

He had been ill for several days. A horrid cough, head cold, and now aches. He had come to the conclusion that he was low on his doses. And to top it off, he had no more left.

Wesker didn't have a lab here in New York, so for now, he would have to make due until he could get back to Prague.

"I'm worried about you, Albert." Claire spoke from behind him.

"You don't need to worry, Claire." He chided her, turning to face her and stroking her arm as if his very touch would shatter her.

There was a clap of thunder that roared outside, beyond the safety of this home. It could not enter; it could not break down the fortifications that were holding together a loosened relationship. A relationship that was being put back together piece by piece. It would endure blood, trust, and the bonds that held the remainder together: Love. It almost seemed as if their lives had fallen into some adorable fairy tale that would result in nothing more and nothing less than a happy ending, yet, Claire and Wesker knew better. Both of them had been there and done that, they were done playing with fate… the rest was up to chance.

_**Hey you, out there in the cold,  
>Getting lonely, getting old,<br>Can you feel me?  
>Hey you, standing in the aisles,<br>With itchy feet and fading smiles,  
>Can you feel me?<br>Hey you, don't help them to bury the light.  
>Don't give in without a fight. <strong>_

The fucked up world that everyone had been living in these days had failed to capture them and convert them to a solider of sorrow. It had eaten their dust several times, unable to catch them or for that matter, hold on to them.

It was foolish, yet it seemed to grow more and more sensible the more it was defeated. Sickness was nothing compared to what was at hand:

Defeat.

If Wesker were to take a second to ponder, to mull over his drastically changing situation, he would have the answers, because currently, he did not. He would have to drive his ships to new lands, conquer what was left of his enemies, for he knew they were out there. Lurking, disguising themselves amongst the mortal world, playing cards with his brain.

And they had the best poker face.

One by one Wesker had found them, called them out, and broken them apart.

But as the mighty Ozwell E. Spencer once said, "defeat is always momentary."

Was this true?

Could Wesker really believe that there was someone out there plotting his downfall? Someone who wasn't Chris Redfield, but someone who had all of the brains to do it all behind a steel curtain.

_**Hey you, out there on your own,  
>Sitting naked by the phone,<br>Would you touch me?  
>Hey you, with you ear against the wall,<br>Waiting for someone to call out,  
>Would you touch me?<br>Hey you, would you help me to carry the stone?  
>Open your heart, I'm coming home.<strong>_

Wesker didn't have a second side of his coin, he only had himself.

Mr. Unlucky,

For now, they would have to keep breathing, persevere beyond the tempest of blackness that shrouded them. It was thick, yet he was able to cut it, slash it into small fragments so that he may pick them up along the way and reassemble them the way he desired.

"Do you trust me, Claire?" Wesker asked, looking at her, making eye contact.

"Yes." It was a simple, one syllable word that had tied the knot.

XXXXX

Chris scraped his pen along the paper.

He was buried in paperwork at the moment, as was Jill. They sat side by side, tossing pages and pages of reports to on another, mumbling profanities under their breath here and there, taking swigs of black coffee.

Chris' eyes were hurting.

Jill's hands were cramping.

The gossip of everyone's worst fear was still wading about HQ.

Albert Wesker.

He was back, and although Chief Braxton would like to have kept it on a down low, in less then twenty-four hours, the whole lot of em knew…

The Devil had returned to claim their souls.

Wesker's wanted poster had been hung up on a bulletin board for over a year now:

_Albert J. W. Wesker_

_Age: 43_

_Height: 6 foot 0 inches_

There was a picture of him below the scanty information. It wasn't a very good picture. He was turned away from the camera that had "caught" him, yet, he was looking over his shoulder as if he knew you were watching him and he was watching you right back.

_WANTED_

_ALIVE_

The BSAA simply could not get enough of Wesker. They wanted his head on a plaque and they wanted it now. The years he had spend mocking them were also the years he had spent perfecting the art of evasiveness.

He was nearly impossible to catch. And now, he was right there, right under Chris' nose and there was nothing he could do about it. Claire's words rang in his head…

"_If you take him away, I'll never forgive you."_

Chris' number one fear was loosing Claire. And now he was loosing Claire to Wesker.

_**But it was only fantasy.  
>The wall was too high,<br>As you can see.  
>No matter how he tried,<br>He could not break free.  
>And the worms ate into his brain.<strong>_

XXXXX

Wesker was on the porch, the rain was heavy, and it was drowning out the sounds of the city that were hammering down onto his sensitive ears. He clenched his fist and took a long hull of his cigarette. He hadn't smoked in years… it was a bad habit that he had dropped long ago but it was at times like this all he wanted was sex and a smoke.

His humane-like personas were catching up. He felt like he was, once again, a filthy human male who craved nothing more than pussy and drugs.

Pathetic.

It began to sicken him to the point where he thought he might gag of disgust. He coughed, more blood exiting his mouth, speckling onto the back of his hand.

Wesker felt Claire approach.

It was something that he had grown accustomed to… something that he was able to feel around him, like a vibe. A wave of new emotion that would flux with the oncoming news and or disappointment. He did not face her, he didn't need to. She knew he was paying attention.

She plucked the cigarette from his mouth and tossed it into an ashtray that sat itself on a small folding table.

Wesker sighed as he thanked her.

"I know you're sick, Albert." She told him, staring out at whatever he was, trying to pinpoint the exact place of focus.

"I know too." He answered stiffly.

Claire huffed, not getting anywhere she leaned into him, hoping that he would untie the stress that held him back. "Come inside, you're gonna freeze."

"I don't feel cold anymore." Wesker responded flatly, as if had no intention of speaking at the moment.

"What do you feel then?"

He turned to face her, void of his signature shades, his eyes were hollow, and something that Claire had not witness in years... dead. Wesker bore his empty eyes right into hers and cupped her face in his hands. "Nothing."

Claire scoffed and moved aside. "So, what? Were we both drunk off our asses when we said I love you?"

"I love you." Wesker said quietly.

"Then why don't you feel anything, Albert?"

"Tell me you love me too." He asked calmly.

Claire didn't know if this was a trap… or if it was something totally normal. She had been on both of Wesker's sides, one bad while the other slightly good. She couldn't tell… he was emotionless, no signs of right or wrong.

"I love you, Albert."

Thunder.

It seemed to dislike what fatal words had slipped the mouths of the two. It rolled, tumbling the sky with dark, blustery thunderheads that groaned with every strike of shimmering lightning that plummeted towards the earth.

The door to the house opened and Wesker turned to see Kaya who was standing there, toting her infamous stuffed wolf. Claire backed up and her daughter moved back as well. "Kaya, daddy and I are having adult talk."

"I want to watch the rain." The girl chimed.

Claire didn't move, or maybe it was because she couldn't.

She could feel Wesker's eyes on her, freezing her where she stood. He was a gargoyle with a paralyzing stare.

She turned to look over her shoulder, looking Wesker right in the eye, his rubicund hues flecked with gold, burned now.

"I love you." She said to him. The door was now shut leaving father and daughter alone.

_**Hey you, out there on the road,  
>always doing what you're told,<br>Can you help me?  
>Hey you, out there beyond the wall,<br>Breaking bottles in the hall,  
>Can you help me?<br>Hey you, don't tell me there's no hope at all…  
>Together we stand, divided we fall.<strong>_

Wesker moved down the porch, he felt light, lofty as if he wasn't touching the ground. He recollected turning and then beckoning to his daughter who complied. This wasn't a trip, he wasn't on drugs but it sure as hell felt like it. He stood there, on the curb with Kaya. Wesker looked down, under him was a cliff, and he was about to fall. He closed his eyes, the sounds of rain flushing onto his ears, the smell of grass filling his nostrils, and the sounds of cars passing by.

He took a step.

With a jolt of pure realization, Wesker was in the middle of the road, not falling off a cliff. His now groggy eyes scanned, Kaya was a mere foot away from him, the bearings of reality shedding back into the picture.

He _had _to be on drugs.

Shit like this never happens on a regular basis.

There was a blaring sound that was approaching one side of him, and screams on the other. Both of the sounds continued yet only one closed in…

There was a cacophony of horrid noises that made Wesker slap his hands over his ears and fall onto his knees. His vision had turned from color to only one…

Red.

The sounds of life had renewed upon his senses, the wash of rain had come forth once more, rain covered up the sounds of something Wesker could not hear.

Screams.

He looked around him, the color of red clouding his view, his hands pawed around on the asphalt, searching for something that wasn't too hard to find.

A stuffed wolf caressed his skin… as did the color red once more. There was a cold hand that had reached for his own, although, Wesker tried to remind himself that he couldn't feel cold anymore.

The rain that continued to fall washed away the horrid shade of red and replaced it with the color he had seen just before this event that took place…

Gray.

It was a voice, barely a whisper above several sounds. It was a name, it wasn't Albert… it was daddy.

There was blood upon this small hand; something that he thought would wash away.

He then heard other voices, but they were muffled as if he was under water.

"_Albert!" _

Exhaustion slowly consumed him and he gladly succumbed. He dropped down onto his hands, beside another figure that was facing him with angelic blue eyes, eyes that were closing.

"_Daddy… help."_

"I can't."

For once in his life, Albert Wesker was incapable performing.

He was dying.

And so was she.

**A/N: OHHH GOD! WHATS GOING ONNN! Wesker! Get off them drugs! Well, Wesker has seemed to cause some trouble! Who has he hurt and who will be next? Tune in next time!** **Oh! And if you have read my other multi chapter story **_**The Day That Never Comes, **_**I had created Wesker full name to be Albert James Wolfrick Wesker. Take that sexy-ness and savor it. PLEASE forgive me if something doesn't make sense, I'm tired as fuck but I wanted update. So if you have a question, I will gladly answer it for you!**


	18. Your Castles Turn To Sand

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

**So, let us relay: Wesker is obviously in no state to do anything seeing that he is very, very sick. Chris is worrying his ass off because of our Dearest Wesker. Claire is worried about said dearest Wesker and plans on doing _something._**

**_Scarlet Larkin: Thank you! I'm infamous for those._ **

_**Naoko Suki: No drugs lol, he's just very sick and his head is a little messed up. And you'll have to find out who go hurt.**_

_**XxXEnvyxXx: I know, Wesker needs to get it together!**_

_**Chris Coard: I DIDN'T KILL HER I SWEAR! *takes shelter behind Wesker***_

_**Tomoko Takami: No worries, our darling Wesker isn't dead he's just… out of commission.**_

_**Bhernanedz02897: His head hurts!**_

**Chapter 18: Your Castles Turn To Sand**

The monotone pats of a heart monitor were beginning to make me stir from my sleep. I felt weak, my mouth was dry, and my stomach was aching due to hunger. I could also taste blood upon my tongue and teeth, but my eyes refused to open so I could investigate. I began to force myself, mentally order my brain to do its job and move its ass. My eyes shot open, and I was looking up at the ceiling. It was dark, darker than I would prefer, but then again, I had no idea where I was holed up. There was a window; I took in that much, it was on the far right wall of this square room. It was covered in a curtain. I sat up, my back cracking from possible days of un-moving neglect. My skin was tight and dehydrated, and I smelled strongly of blood and sweat. I looked down, there were IV's in my arm, two in fact and there was dried blood around the skin there. __

I then began to stand up and walk about this room, deducting that I was in a hospital. I hadn't been admitted into one since I was a child… it was a strange feeling. I almost felt helpless because I didn't know what was going on. I had no idea to what had transpired… no memory.

My balance was poor, and I felt as if I was partially blindfolded.

I walked passed a mirror and it made me double-take at the reflection. My eyes widened, I was certainly a sight to see. As if I had been mauled by a bear, my face and shoulder were ravaged with deep gashes and black bruises. There was a bandage wrapped around my head and covered up my left eye, and a raunchy gash protruded from under the unchanged gauze that was spotted with old blood. My lip was bloody and cut, and my right eye suffered from the colors of black and blue.

And just to make sure, I bared my teeth like a panther… none were missing.

Pulling down the sleeve of my tattered navy t-shirt, the upper half of my right arm, including my shoulder, was scabbed up. Again, cuts and bruises razed the remainder of the skin there. I groaned at my horrid appearance and had tried to recollect what had made me look like a Raccoon City victim. It was a fearful sight to see and then the fact that no memory from the events came to me, I was starting to grow irritated.

I walked passed the mirror, trying to ignore that man staring back.

There was no one else here. It was just me, all alone. I walked over to the window and peeled back a sliver of the curtains, it was dark outside, and the moon was high and full. There were cars in the parking lot, lined up neatly and almost as if they were color coordinated. It began to hit me that I was clearly injured, helpless at the moment, and admitted in the hospital. Personally, I didn't want to spend anymore time in here than the last guy, I was carting around the IV stand wherever I walked, what a burden.

There was a knock on the door and my head whipped in that general direction. Finally, someone who could answer all of my bloody questions but I didn't beckon for them, I watched them open up the door.

It was Claire. My lovely, beautiful Dearheart. I smiled, but then stopped when I realized that she wasn't as she approached me.

"Albert." She breathed and walked to hug me. She buried her face in my neck which caused me to wince. She kissed the side of my Adam's apple and gained a growl from me.

I held her back at arms length… she looked exhausted and mentally broken down. I could see it in her eyes that something was horribly wrong. Claire always sent out these vibes that I've always been keen to pick up and question the wellbeing of my love. The little mascara that she was wearing was smeared as if she had been wiping her face repeatedly; her eyes were dull, not full of the life that always bounced around in them. Her auburn hair had somewhat lost her luster, maybe it was the weather. She was also paler than usual; she had looked as if she had been neglecting herself for something more important.

"Dearheart, what's the matter?" I asked her, the question had always been overused and cliché but there was something genuinely wrong with her this time.

"You don't remember?" She eyed me like I was mental, because… maybe I was.

I shook my head, she was correct; I did not recollect any events from the past few days if that was where the time had gone. She began to tear up and I reached out to wipe those tears away with the little strength I had. I could barely lift my arm up to comfort her, it was shackled with pain and it irked me to no end. I managed to shoo away the water that fell from her oceanic eyes. "Don't cry, Claire." I pleaded while I lay my head on her shoulder.

"Kaya…" She sucked in a breath and clutched the back of my neck tighter. "She's…in a coma, Albert."

My mind didn't catch up with her statement… maybe it didn't want to. Realization hit like a Mac Truck on hyper drive and I was afraid to face the horrid truth that I had brought upon my family. My daughter needed me, yet there was little to nothing I could do at this point. There was nothing any of us could do but wait. Wait and pray to whatever god was up there that she didn't slip away because of my carelessness.

"What happened to her?"

"Both of you were hit by a car. You just walked into the street… and she followed you because she knew something was wrong. And you're not healing up because you're sick, remember?"

I did remember. The fact that I was low on injections had taken a toll on my physical and obviously mental health. I was no better than the blabbering, idiot human male. It was completely my fault that my daughter was in a coma, possibly never coming out of it. Death had yet again been successful at cutting of a limb and disposing of it. Slicing away what was needed to win, what was needed to climb the stairs even higher. It took away something that was going to be hard to get back from Him. I needed to fight, and maybe I would win.

"I have to do something," I stated out loud.

Claire didn't seem to understand my logic at the moment for I was clearly injured and in no position to aid. Moral support was nothing to me; it would do _nothing _for my little girl. She would still lie there, in her hospital bed, wandering endlessly through a dream that she hoped to God she would wake from.

"You can't, Albert. They've already done everything they can do. We have to wait now."

"Yeah well I'm not them, I'm me." I stated firmly. I was better then them, they were petty doctors who were famous for nothing. Granted I never worked in hospital but I've seen things they would never wish to lay eyes on. I had my PhD, I _was _Doctor Wesker but I wasn't there to work at your local children's hospital. I was there to prevent an outbreak that would destroy the masses. Again, I never lived up to that because I wanted to watch them burn.

Claire began to sob a bit more, and I stroked her back but she seemed to tense up at my touch. "What now?" I asked her softly.

"They have you…" She said grimly, still crying into my shoulder.

"What?"

She looked up at me; there was now fire in her eyes. "The BSAA! They have you! They have proof that you're hanging around here, Albert. Chris… Chris has the warrant for your arrest. I'm sorry…"

"You don't need to be sorry, Claire." I told her, kissing her temple. Just as I had remembered, there was thunder and rain that day.

It began to rain.

I could hear the thunder in the distance. Rolling closer and closer with every strike of lightning that struck earth.

Looking out the window, my eyes tumbled an amber-orange, I could feel them changing as my vision went from a red sheen around the edges to a gold.

I ripped the IV's from my arm and it startled Claire. The blood from the puncture wounds began to spill over my skin and it felt like a rush. I could smell it strong in my nose, fresh, inhuman blood.

I was still clothed from the accident, black slacks and a navy t-shirt. I was missing my shoes and socks but glamour wasn't an aspect at the moment. I tore the bandage from my head and let it sail to the floor below. The cut on my face was able to breath.

"Where are you going this time?" Claire asked sadly. I turned to her and cupped her face in my hands. I swept her lips in a kiss, a kiss so fucking passionate that my knees almost gave out. I had never kissed her like this before. I ran my fingers ever so softly down her tearstained face that it made her whimper. I pulled away from her slowly, letting my lips linger upon her own and she looked up at me with a pleading in her eyes. It made them glow as mine did, she was asking me to do _something. _Something that would save a life from utter destruction.

Our child.

"I love you." I whispered into her ear and I could feel her shiver at the sound of my voice. "I love you so much."

There was something about the way my life had turned around that made me love this woman even more than I said I did. It was a sudden torrent that had to attack me.

Just me.

I thought I was going to be the same for the rest of my life. Alone. Alone because I didn't need anybody, yet as Claire was introduced into my life, I found myself denying all I thought was right and wrong. Breaking barriers for this woman because she meant the world to me, and she was that one force that slapped me in the face and told me I wasn't doing it right. She turned me into something I despised back then…a man that actually _cared _for another human being, let alone a woman. Family and a relationship were completely out of the question when I was a subject to my own, and might I mention, narrow judgment. But now was now, not then. It was time to live in the day and age I was born into. Granted, and I admit it, I was old fashioned but by no means that kept me from this beautiful woman before me, holding onto me as if she thought she might drown. I loved Claire, and that was that. There was no force on this wretched earth that was going to change my mind. She changed me… she molded me from the man I once was and I was proud of her.

She looked into the eyes of The Wolf and said _"No, I will not bow."_

**A/N: Oh my… Wesker is really in trouble this time huh guys! Welp that was an awesome chapter. I always love writing in Wesker perspective because I can write in a completely different tone because it's him!** **He has a completely different way of seeing things, normal things to us are something much more deep to him and that's why I love writing as him. Oh, and forgive me if there are any errors, I don't usually read through it before I post it that's why… WHO WANTS TO BE MY LOVELY BETA! If you want to you just have to promise me one thing: You won't be one of those 14 year old assholes who think they know everything. I hate them… Seeya, guys! I'm going to spam my blog with Wesker. **


	19. Number Thirteen

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

**So, here we are going to get into another chapter where I officially introduce the villain. The plotting here will ultimately tie in with Wesker's predicament back home.**

_**Naoko Suki: I know! Wesker just has it really hard right now!**_

_**Tomoko Takami: I'M SORRY! *Hides behind Wesker* it had to be done! Wesker's world is crumbling and his awful luck ties in with the plot greatly and also this chapter.**_

_**BabyAngle-Tears: That is an awesome song and maybe I'll use that in another chapter!**_

_**Maleficmistress: Pink Floyd is one of my faves! We have so much in common I swear we should just get married! I know! Poor Wesker! He needs a vacation! God, Chris is so emo! Lol!**_

_**Scarlet Larkin: Thanks!**_

**Chapter 19: Number Thirteen**

It was not a very glorious day in England. The sun had been conquered by thunderheads that were threatening to screech. There was a light sprinkle of rain that had been drizzling throughout the day. It had remained like this for almost a week now, chilly winds and silence to encase it all. The grey streets of the city were slick with rain and clothes hanging on lines were dripping. Ravens were blaring their mournful sirens of sorrow that seemed to waft through the streets.

Now we go underground.

The comparison to those mortal few who lived above ground and to those who lived down here were immense. Pristine walls of a facility gleamed with hygiene and cleanliness. It was also an emotionless place to be had, there was nothing down here to erect a felling of well, anything. It was all business.

The smell of blood would then enter the nostrils and your hair would stand on end because you knew something was horribly wrong if you smelled this now. Then you would begin to tremble slightly, for you knew anything could be lurking just beyond your line of sight. This was classic horror 101 and you were apt to survive. But there was blood on the walls, streaks as if the body had been dragged along the white walls.

At the end of the hallway, the light had begun to fade for there were bulbs that needed to be replaced and it irked him but not as much as his situation did. It was dark where he was standing, the lights would flicker from time to time, giving him a headache that refused to relent. And on his brand new suit that, might he mention, was white, there were splatters of blood. Something that he had become accustomed to, but the stains would just drive his madness along.

He felt like is brother: Unable to control himself. And control was the one thing Albert did not harbor. He would fake you out, make you believe that he was in line, make you believe that he was a good man, a man that you could trust, but then he would snap your neck when you weren't looking, claiming you slipped. Although the men were related, another thing that Albert Wesker lacked was piece of mind.

And it was defiantly one thing that Alex Wesker did not.

XXXXX

He preferred to keep his hands bare.

He _wanted _his victims to feel his skin on theirs just before he ended them, just before he snuffed the light from your eyes.

There was little to hide and he would admit that he liked seeing blood upon his skin. It gave him great pleasure to know that his enemies were well spent. But like paint on a canvas, it was beginning to fade from his pale knuckles.

Although Alex would like to say that he was better than Albert, there were some things that he had lost to his aging brother.

Albert was much more intelligent on most matters and was a problem solver, while Alex was strategic and was a trouble maker. Although Alex did not deny their similar traits and traits that he thought he excelled more in. Strategy was one, while his brother was cunning, he never had a follow up plan, he never thought he would have to extend because relishing in the first accomplishment was good enough for him. All the while, Alex had to have more and more. He needed closure and he wanted it as soon as his plans were carried out. He would try to rectify what had gone wrong and only for them to improve the next time.

There was a wall that separated the brothers; Albert was the ruler of his narrow-minded kingdom that never saw a sliver of government accusations. That was because he was smart and like Alex mentioned, cunning. Alex had been in months to almost years of legal troubles that he kept under wraps. He would have to admit that he was not very good at managing other people; he lost patience with them fairly quickly.

Alex fingered through a notebook that was wrinkled and covered in coffee stains. A crime he would admit to. It was his examination notes, notes that were taken thoroughly, notes that were taken with so much care that they could teach a blind man to read. He glanced at one entry that was submitted a few months ago…

_February 9, 2009,_

_It seems as if I'm beginning to lose my poor mind. Albert is back in the states and he doesn't seem too apt on taking over what he had started. But then again, he sometimes has the attention-span of a monkey. He has been going back to this woman, a woman whom I identify as a Miss Claire Redfield, the younger sister of Christopher Redfield. I do not know what compels him to do such a… human thing but it seems as if I have lost my brother to humanity itself. He was on a good road, a road that might have lead him to immortality but, like he does sometimes, he trashed his ideas and began to sulk about. Claire Redfield still peaks my interest and I must dig into her a bit further. But for now, we will just have to wait and see what Albert does. It is neither the time nor the place to sabotage him… like a great man once said: One will have to wait for glory. My time will come and when it does, there will be nothing he can do because I'll tear him limb from limb, take away everything he has, and everything he never deserved. I will shave away all that is Albert James Wolfrick Wesker and burn it to the ground. _

Alex didn't prefer the situation he was in—it was shifty and there was only a small window of time that he had before it shut on him forever. Albert would disappear like snow melting on to pavement. Unless… unless he stayed. Perhaps he had promised Claire that he would, yet, that was very unlikely of his brother to succumb to such a human-like trait.

But Alex knew better than to assume.

Albert could well have changed over all these years.

And another thing that nipped at his Alex's heels was Spencer. Spencer wanted to know everything that was transpiring. He, like Alex, wanted Albert's head on a dinner plate. After Albert had sunk Umbrella like The Titanic, Spencer vowed to make him pay. But age had crept into bed with the old man, thus, preventing his hand in Albert's demise. So he had asked his favorite child to carry out his deed. Although Albert _had _been his number one, Alex had assumed the position after Albert's well planed betrayal. Alex did have to admit that his brother's intentions were pure and anyone with eyes could have seen it coming. The events that had transpired afterwards, well, after Raccoon City that is, Alex had kept a keen eye on. He knew that his presumably "dead" brother had been pulling strings behind a steel curtain. It was obvious, to Alex at least, that Albert had not really perished at the Mansion Incident and that it was all an elaborate ruse to blindside the poor company so he could then deliver the bone-crushing roundhouse.

K.O. Umbrella.

Alex could not play his part in Spencer's tirade forever, for he had is own plans for Albert. He was just in it to please The Master so he could extend his leash.

Alex began to fold a paper crane while he pondered, it was a hobby that was so ridiculously human, he found himself doing more and more to pass the grueling time that he had to endure throughout his day. Placing the finished crane onto his desk, he smirked and it reminded him of his brother: Fragile.

There was a light knock on the door and he beckoned for them to enter.

A tall Russian man had entered just Alex had expected him to. "Ah, Nicholai! Please tell me some good news for once in your life!" Alex pestered the man as if he was a child but the Russian only kept a stern face, his emerald green eyes glazed over. Nicholai approached his employer's desk and he slapped a piece of paper onto the wood.

"I pleased to inform you vat your brother has reared his sorry head." Nicholai said with a thick accent. 

It was Albert's wanted poster with something carelessly stapled onto the back.

An arrest warrant.

Alex's orange eyes flashed and he chuckled menacingly. It then turned into a mocking, cynical-like laughter that would send chills down Dracula's spine. "It is time."

**A/N: SO! Alex Wesker! He always seems to be the prominent Wesker villain when Albert doesn't have a worthy one! So, what will he do to bring down his brother and just how will he get to him! Tune in next time to find out the horrid intentions of Alex Wesker! Oh! And can anybody tell me why the chapter is called Number 13?**


	20. You Are A Product Of Fear

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

**Bad things will happen…**

_**SamWes: WRONG! Nope, 13 was actually Alex's number.**_

_**Claire Redfield 86: Welp, you guessed right!**_

_**Pink almonds: Thank you so much for coming back! I missed you and your wonderful reviews so much! I hope you've had a fun time catching up to where we are now and I hope that you continue to stick with me! Your reviews and commentary mean so much to me because I wish to write as good as you one day! **_

_**Maleficmistress: WRONG! If you're referring to Wesker's serum in RE5, it was actually called PG67/AW. But if you're referring to the order of the Wesker Children, you, missy, are wrong again. Albert was number 12 while Alex was number 13. But, on other notes, thank you for taking a liking to my Alex Wesker. I've read a lot of fics with him and I decided why not I'll do it too. So I've been very sure to get everything down without making him too much like Albert.**_

_**Ashford: WRONG! Albert's is number 12 and Alex's is number 13. Thanks for the review though! Stick with us, we love newbie's! **_

_**Naoki Suki: OH POOR ALEX! WHAT WILL HE DO? Lol, he's spoiled though. Well, both in the next chapter or the one after, you'll be finding out Alex's true intentions for his brother and why he wants him D-E-A-D Dead. And yes! A warrant for Wesker's arrest! *Yes, this is also Chris's fault.***_

_**Chris Coard: I'm right there with ya!**_

**Chapter 20: You Are a Product of Fear**

The bodies had been piled on top of each other in order to save some space for more… the skin on the corpses were long since rotted away, mice and rats had chewed off the flesh from eyelids and palms, leaving nothing more than the bone of fingers and noses. In the background of most of the photos, fires burned piles of the dead, men in decontamination suits sweeping up the remains of decay. Other photos showed that of men, women, and children suffering from severe skin rashes or blemishes if you will. They were covered head to toe in bruises that were most likely caused by rigorous scratching of the wounds and blisters.

And those were the survivors.

The dead were in much worse condition, continuing to rot in makeshift body pits that were used to hole them up before the dumped the dirt.

Wesker pushed the pictures back across the desk that he was so inconveniently chained to like an animal. The chains that were strapped to his wrists crinkled when his arms receded back to his side.

"Do you deny the crimes you have committed in the past?" Chief Braxton asked him. He was the head honcho of the BSAA and was finally satisfied to have Wesker as a prisoner.

"No." Wesker stated simply. Chris, who stood against the wall behind Braxton, his eyes darkened as did the lines on his face. Wesker knew that this was Chris' thinking face, and when he began to think, ideas would be conceived. And when ideas were conceived, good things for Wesker began to fade.

"Why?" Braxton asked sternly. "Typically a man who is accused of murder of every degree, which, might I remind you is so very rare, they tend to deny the fact that they are killers and then the mental institutions begin to come into play."

"Because I know what I have done and to deny it would be foolish."

"So you're admitting to the crimes of murder of every degree in the following locations and dates: Raccoon City, 1998. Rockfort Island, December 1998, Operation Javier, South America 2002, the Russian Umbrella Facility in 2003. Two years later in Spain, 2005. 2006, you were reported by Chris here, to be at Ozwell E. Spencer's mansion in Europe, also, having the final in his death. I and wont forget to mention you are the cause of the deaths of Dr. James Marcus and Colonel Sergei Vladimir."

Wesker clapped his bare hands together and chuckled. "Very impressive, Mr. Braxton. You seem to have me under your thumb. How does it feel to have the most wanted man chained to your desk?"

"Don't make a fool of my work and what I fight for, Wesker." Braxton seethed.

Wesker scoffed, "You sound like Christopher." He reached up and scratched the scar that befell upon his eye from his accident. It had healed but it healed much too slow and it was now a red-ish flank of skin that ran down his left eye.

Braxton slammed his fist on the desk and brought his face right into Wesker's. His eyes were burning and Wesker only sat stern, never breaking unbearable eye contact. "Listen you shit motherfucker. I will lock you up for so long that you'll be _begging _me to let you out to see the sun! We all know what you've done and you _will _pay the ultimate price."

"So be it." Wesker said calmly.

Braxton waved to Chris. "Get him outta my sight…" Chris unchained Wesker from the desk and pushed him towards the door and then down the hallway back to his cell. He was excluded from the other prisoners that were held at HQ and if he wanted any free time outside, he was to be accompanied by six armed guards. Wesker was not allowed to interact with any other inmates and was only allowed on visit a week.

_**There was a time when my world was filled with darkness.**_

_**Then I stop dreaming now I'm supposed to fill it with something.**_

_**In your eyes I see the eyes of somebody I knew before,**_

_**Long, long, long ago.**_

_**But I'm still trying to make my mind up, am I free or am I tied up?**_

Chris shoved Wesker into his cell and slid the bars closed. "I hope you're happy, asshole…"

Wesker leaned against the metal, gripping the bars tightly, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Chris had his back turned to him and he chuckled half-heartedly. "You've completely ruined her life, ya know that?"

"Claire…?"

Chris spun around and pointed his pistol at Wesker's head. "Who the fuck do you think I'm talking about, Wesker? Ever since you've showed up here she's been stressed and now it's your fault that Kaya is in the hospital! What the fuck do you propose you do now? Huh, Wesker? Give me an answer!" He was shaking with anger, sweat beaded down his forehead.

"I don't know."

"Exactly, you don't fucking know."

Wesker did not attempt to move away from the barrel of Chris' gun, he would have the balls to fire. Chris laughed to himself and shook his head; he lowered the gun and shoved it back into its holster. "You're fucked."

_**I change shapes just to hide in this place but I'm still, I'm still an animal.**_

_**Nobody knows it but me when I slip, yeah I slip I'm still an animal.**_

XXXXX

Wesker stood against the wall all night… he was pondering. There was no way out of here.

This place was like Alcatraz.

He though about Claire a lot in his time of imprisonment, and it dawned on him that there was nothing he could do anymore. He was a prisoner; finally, the world had caught up with him and chained him down.

And it was his own fault. There was no one to blame but himself, for he had brought this burden upon his own life. He glanced at his watch which was dying.

8:12 PM.

The guards were to make their rounds in eighteen minutes. Wesker thought about bribing one but then he though of how much more trouble he would be in if he could caught.

Fuck, this sucked.

There was a clatter of security doors and Wesker leaned out as much as he could to see what was going on. A guard was heading down the hall, smoking and swinging a pair of keys around his fat fingers. He walked up to Wesker's cell, and crossed his arms, making sure he kept his distance for Wesker had already killed three guards earlier in the week.

"Evening, Wolf." The man spat. The men had been accustomed to calling him "Wolf" because of his eyes. "You have a late night visitor." He unlocked the bar from the cell door and clapped Wesker in his chains.

He shoved lead him down the hallway, always staying behind a prisoner, they were taught, because the scum could take you out if _they _were behind _you_.

He pushed Wesker into a room with four call benches. The thick glass panels that separated the other room were rumored impenetrable. The room was dark but lit by two dull, flickering light bulbs.

Wesker sat down on the bench, rubbing his eyes for it had been a long day. He picked up the phone and a chuckle emitted from the other line.

Emerging from the empty darkness of the other room, Alex Wesker leaned forward twirling the cord of the phone with his ringed fingers. "Evening, brother."

"Alex…"

"It's been a while hasn't it. Look at you! All grown up."

"Speak for yourself, you bastard." Wesker spat.

"Touchy, touchy." Alex chided his older brother.

"What are you doing here?" Wesker demanded.

"I'm running errands for dearest Spencer and one thing on his… _extensive _checklist is you!"

"Excuse me?"

"Don't play stupid, brother. You know why Spencer wants your head. It is, after all, your fault that Umbrella went down. And I also have my own devices in this plan."

Wesker slammed his fist into the glass and it cracked ever so slightly. Alex receded back only an inch, smiling cynically.

Alex began to fold his paper, as he began to grow bored with his brother rage. "You know," Alex began without taking his eyes off his hands, "I feel bad for you, I really do. All alone in this world, no one to turn to because you let them all go. You let all of the people who cared runaway in fear because you can't handle yourself… can you?"

"You seem to be after something, Alex."

"I am."

"Well you aren't going to find answers with me so why don't you get lost and tell Spencer that he can go _fuck _himself." Wesker seethed.

Alex laughed and shook his head, "Poor deluded Albert. So oblivious to the real threat that will be imposed upon you soon enough. Soon enough that you'll be too weak to stop it."

Wesker didn't understand why Alex switched to mind-game mode. He was obviously after something and Spencer had sent him in to do it for him. He was now a weak old man that was wasting away in the shadows of his dwindling wealth and power. He was once a great man who did… semi-great things and now he had receded into a waste of space.

_**There was a hole and I tried to fill it up with money.**_

_**But it gets bigger till your horse is always running.**_

_**In your eyes I see the eyes of somebody who could be strong.**_

_**Tell me if I'm wrong.**_

_**And now I'm pulling your disguise up,**_

_**Are you free or are you tied up? **_

"In time, brother. In time you will learn to appreciate who makes the rules and who breaks them. For you have lived your life under the shadow of Spencer, so oblivious to outer world threats. Now, you will be subjected to mine own wrath."

Wesker roared and drove his fist into the glass, shattering it his knuckles ripped open showing the bone of his fingers. He grabbed Alex by the color of his white suit and brought his smug face to his own. Alex laughed for he seemed to find some sort of humor in his brother's rage. "I will _fucking _kill you, sniveling little dog. You have no idea of the power I have obtained over all these lost years. Your day of reckoning is close at hand and I can't _wait _to watch you bleed all over the fucking floor."

"You have grown quite a temper lately, haven't you?" Alex laughed yet again, taking much pride in the fact that he could not be harmed here, not now. It would have to wait, Alex would play his cards right and subdue his plans until the end. Albert would just have to wait and watch what was yet to unfold. His brother's world was slowly crumbling into a generation of nothingness. "We'll have to see what Claire thinks… now won't we?"

Wesker brought a piece of shattered glass to Alex's throat. "Stay away from her, you filthy bastard."

The guard, who probably heard the glass shatter burst into the room.

Nice timing… idiot.

He grabbed the chains that were clapped onto his wrists and pulled Wesker back. Alex sat back on the bench, crossing his arms. "You are a product of fear."

_**I change shapes just to hide in this place but I'm still, I'm still an animal. **_

_**Nobody but me knows when I slip, yeah I slip I'm still an animal.**_

**A/N: Sorry guys this one is a little short but it was filled with stuff! So, Alex is a fucking dick right! What will his next move be and why is he going to go after Claire? Well duh! She's leverage to get Wesker to do what Alex wants! OH NOOOOOOOO! So, the song I used is called Animal by Miike Snow and it is seriously an amazing song, go… go NOW and listen to it because it is fucking flawless! GO! I COMMAND YOU!**


	21. Phase One: Chaos

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

**I got my own laptop now! So new laptop means more privacy and more privacy means more time to update! YAY! By the way, my reviewers seem to be dropping like flies… where did all of you go anyways? Do I offend? *sniffs armpit***

_**Tomoko Takami: Don't worry about it! You take your time! Nope, Alex Wesker is NOT an OC of mine. He's actually a legitimate "character" to Resident evil. If you will, I will explain. I'm sure you know about the Wesker children and on that list of 13 children, Albert was number 12 and Alex was number 13. Now, all of the children on that list except for Albert and Alex perished throughout the years of testing. Albert went his separate way and exposed Umbrella while Alex continued to serve Spencer. When or if you read through Spencer's journal in RE5 Lost in Nightmares, you'll read a lot about Alex and his work that he did for Spencer. One strange thing though is that a few years before Wesker arrived in Africa, Alex was already there commencing experiments on the villagers. **_

_**Naoko Suki: Right! Chris just needs to calm his tits! Oh, you just wait and see what happens! When I thought of the idea for a plot twist, I blew myself away!**_

_**Chris Coard: Thank you!**_

_**Moonlight Shadow Huntress: Thank you so much for your amazing reviews on this fic as well as Breathless! Your commentary means a lot to me and my reviewers keep me motivated! I'm here to please if you will! I would really enjoy your company if you decide to stick around through the rest of this story! You're a wonderful heart and I hope to see more of your feedback!**_

**Chapter 21: Phase One-Chaos**

There was snow accumulating outside of the hospital. It began falling late that evening and was now drifting through New York City silently, as if Nature were whispering Her secrets into your ears. Claire Redfield didn't know if she was going to make it through this winter that had befallen NY; she didn't know if her moral would carry her out. What she did know was that Wesker was being detained at HQ and that he wasn't allowed to converse with anyone after he had broken a bench window. For what reasons, she did not know. But there were rumors spreading that a man that looked quite similar to Wesker was prowling around HQ every other day or so, asking around for his "brother". Once the man had confirmed that Albert Wesker was his "brother", the guards had let them speak but nothing else transpired after that, or, at least that was what Claire was told.

The monotone beats of the heart monitor were beginning to make her gut grind, for she had become accustomed to the sound as being her daughters only sign of life. She slept limp in her hospital bed, breath shallow, and her skin pale and clammy, her arms were subjected to several IV's, and her lips were chapped from almost three weeks of hygiene negligence. Kaya's auburn hair was tangled slightly and tousled from its usual straight performance. Claire could feel the tears welling up in her lifeless, blue eyes and she gulped in some air that was most certainly not fresh. She had been cooped up in this room for over a week now, trying to reassure herself and Patrick that everything was going to be ok, and that Kaya was going to wake up soon. But, like lies tend to do, they failed. Her aspirations of Do-Gooding were doing nothing, for she could not see the light in her engulfing darkness.

XXXXX

"You better be serious about this because I do not accept mistakes very well." Alex chided the man walking beside him.

"I am, boss, trust me. I'll carry it out exactly as you asked. No mistakes."

Alex adjusted the guard hat that he was wearing and flattened out the front of the uniform. He had snatched them before he left after his chat with his brother dearest and had decided to launch phase one of his Grand Plan.

Chaos.

He used a copied key to unlock the back entrance to Cell Block A and put his ever so loyal mercenary inside, locking the doors and slipping him a vile. "You have approximately eight minutes before the effects take full spread." Alex handed him the key, "Unlock the door and remember to sink into the nearest human."

"Gotchya," The man saluted his superior and injected the vile of T-Virus into the crook of his arm. "Catch ya on the flip side, boss."

XXXXX

The guard to detainment cell block A had come to do his rounds. It was late, later than usual but he had just gotten back from the bar with his pals. It was blatantly obvious that he did not prefer his job, for perusing something as a prison guard was something he would wish on no one. Not only was it exhausting, it was also terrifying. Waking up with the idea that today you could die, today you could get caught up in a riot and never come out, was a thought best left to dwell on never again.

In all of his years working at the detainment cells at HQ, no prisoner scared the blood right from his veins accept for Albert Wolf Wesker.

The guards had given his the nickname "Wolf" because of his eyes. They held an intensity that could not be matched, they stared at you and almost forced you to stare right back, for everywhere you went, you knew he was watching you, and if he wasn't watching you, he could smell you. Smell the fear that dripped off your body like sweat. Wolf didn't play games with you; he played them with _you _as his pawn. No other prisoner would come close to him for he had stricken fear into every single one of them.

You did _not _fuck with the Wolf.

He unlocked the door to Cell Block A and swung his keys like he did every so often, whistling the Cantina Band Song from Star Wars. The keys slipped from his fingers and he cursed, bending over to retrieve them. He heard a shuffle coming from the end of the hallway… and his paranoia set in, for the hall was lit by nothing more than the moon shining through the windows. He heard the noise again; some kind of slow shuffling about. Like a dragging of a piece of wood but burdened by the weight.

"Wolf?" He called, knowing that he could well be awake and making the noises.

"What?" The guard's face blanched, that was him, responding, the deep, baritone voice that echoed through the halls like a mighty bell.

He moved over to his cell, unlocking the door, "Do you hear that? Down the hall?"

Wesker stepped out from the cell, turning his head in the directing that the guard pointed. "No."

The unpleasant pang of noises sounded again, this time much closer. "That!" The guard yelled.

Wesker nodded and took a step from his cell, squinting in the darkness for his eyesight had gotten a tad worse from his depravity. Out of the corner of his eye, he could have sworn he saw the familiar dragging of a Walker but, he had long since become immune to the scare of ghosts from his past.

Wesker walked the opposite direction towards the door, peering out of the window and not picking up anything out of the ordinary. But the smell of blood sunk into his nose, and the sounds of screams, desperate cries for help were upon him like ants on honey. He retreated and jogged towards where he had left the guard standing. There were pats of blood on the white floor, sparkling in the moonlight that was basking down into the hall, they assaulted Wesker's nose and it made him dizzy. The sweet smell of blood wafting throughout his senses like a wave of sickness.

The Walker feasted upon the neck of the guard, just like they were created to.

Wesker backed up… this was not a good sign. This particular sign meant that Alex was up to something, something that could most certainly not be good. There was now a _zombie _in the Cell Block that was devouring its victim.

Alex Wesker's fault indeed. There was no denying that his brother was in on this. It took him years to grow up the strength, make the money, and keep hold of the power that Wesker had already achieved. The fact that there was nothing Wesker could do now was enraging him, he looked at the Walker with pure disgust, pure hatred that boiled over into a steam of active ideas that would get Alex begging for mercy.

Wesker never took too lightly on traitors. Although, he could deem himself a hypocrite seeing that he _was _a traitor himself. But that was beside the point; the main factor here was to bring his brother down and by doing that, reestablishing his position as the _only _Wesker child.

Did he have a plan?

No.

Was he planning on a plan?

Hell yes he was.

Wesker watched as the Walker continued to gorge into the guard's neck, seemingly unfazed by his presence. He looked about the body of the creature that he had mistakenly created one fateful day. Just about everything that Wesker had done was a mistake but a mistake that he was willing to utilize and eventually, he took heed to his own advice and did so.

In the end, often times Wesker would find himself relishing in his glory and the former glory of his subordinates, and come to the conclusion that his half his life was a royal fuck up and needed to be fixed but no one was willing to aid him. He would, although, not deny that after the Mansion Incident, he gave his life new insight. For instance, meeting Claire.

If she hadn't stolen from him all those years ago, his eternal puzzle would be missing a massive part of its grand scheme. He loved Claire, and that was that. There were no x-factors because he had eliminated all of them. The only thing that mattered now was his family.

Alex would not get in the way; Wesker would fight him off tooth and claw to ensure this. This world that he had lived in, this fucked up place that he had to call home had taught him right and wrong. And when the cards were down and the heads were up, people counted on Wesker. People needed the reassurance because they were too weak to give it to themselves. Self motivation was something they did not pump out but something that Wesker would gift once in a great while. While others groveled at his feet, Wesker rose to the top, kicking Spencer off his throne and burning his flag.

Alex Wesker was no match for him. He could feel it in his gut that tides would turn and eventually, the brothers would have to duke it out in a fight to become the last of their kind. But for now, in the darkness of this night, Albert Wesker was alone.

**A/N: Sorry this is short AGAIN. But, I promise to have a new one up very soon. I like this Wesker part of this chapter because I felt that they were very insightful. And I love writing just solid Wesker descript because he's just a twisted guy and nothing but rainbows and lollypops could ruin the fact that he is a renegade jackass! So, there will be a HUGE plot twist and said plot twist blew even me away when I thought of it. So stick around to find out what happens to Wesker as his world begins to crumble little by little. **


	22. No More Room In Hell

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

**So, I've decided to make this chapter as lengthy as I can because the last two were very short and I apologize. So in this chapter, the plot twist goes down and everything in hell breaks loose. So this chapter is all in first person. Seriously though, where in the hell did everybody go? I am literally down to like, 4 faithful reviewers now… are you guys dead or something? Please come back :C**

_**Tomoko Takami: No problem! Not a lot of people recall an Alex Wesker until you explain a little. **_

_**Moonlight Shadow Huntress: Your predictions are heartwarming but you will be sorely let down my dear.**_

_**Naoko Suki: I know, some people aren't observant at all. Alex is putting around HQ and no one takes mind because he looks like a normal guy. (BULL) lol but, what happens next is very, very interesting and very huge on the plot and lands this story where it needs to go.**_

_**Chris Coard: Thanks! **_

_**Bhernandaz02897: Thank you for all the reviews! **_

**Chapter 22: No More Room In Hell**

_(Wesker's POV)_

I didn't know what that smell was… I couldn't quite place my finger on it for I had been aware of such a smell for the past two hours. The body of the guard had been cleaned up this morning and the zombie disposed of. Chris had questioned me about its appearance and wondered why I didn't do anything to prevent it from happening. I clearly stated that I had not begun this terror upon HQ, and had been unaware of such a creature roaming about in Cell Block A. Braxton was also on my ass about the sighting, and then asked me how best to get rid of it. I told him, simply, yet, more mockingly than most while smirking and chewing on a toothpick "Shoot 'em the head and knock 'em dead." He didn't take my whack at comic relief too fondly, for he didn't laugh nor chuckle. I knew for a fact, that I was beginning to bring the worst out in Charles E. Braxton and that I got on every single one of his nerves… purposely, of course.

Yet, this smell that was rudely interfering with my nose was most likely that of death. It was not a material object, yet it held its significance in human nature as well as my own. It was something that could not be prevented and something that did not want to be fooled. Death was like a shadow that loomed over earth from the valley's of its past, to the waning of every new day.

I craned my neck to the right, wishing it would crack but it never did. Stress was pounding my head like a bull, unable to relent because it was stuck. I didn't know what to do at this point for _I_ was stuck as well.

Alex Wesker was my one and only concern at the moment. This whole thing reeked of him and I could feel a disturbance that could only be caused by someone as wicked as himself. Alex did not play fair and even in cheating, he sometimes never got his way. Throwing fits would get him nowhere and that is why he resorted to taking breaths and rethinking. He was a man of a million plans, always another if the last one had failed. Always something to rectify what had gone wrong beforehand.

He irked me to no ends for I knew that he was pulling the strings behind my back and taping my eyes shut the whole time. He was up to something and this something didn't reek of Spencer like I thought it would.

No, this was something of his own design. Something that was mapped out from the moment it sparked in that head of his. I leaned against the bars of my cell, taking a gulp of un-fresh air that stung my lungs like toxic gas. It was dark… night had befallen New York City and the constant sounds of car horns and helicopter blades reckoned down on my ears like an orchestra of god-awful noises. The new guard had not come to make his rounds and I checked my watch, which was dying… 8:53pm.

He was late.

The screams from down the hall made me cringe. It made me do so because I knew of the others here who I was holed up with. It was disgusting me, making my gut grind because the thought of sickening low-lives that resided within these walls, who were crunching each other's bones every night, ripping each other's skin and dropping it for the rats. These were the kind of people I sought to eliminate, destroy and then renew. People like this deserved nothing more than the death sentence and a life in Hell. But, like my father always said: _"When there is no more room in Hell, the dead shall walk this earth."_

My father's cynical words rang in my ears. For I had seen what he would speak of… the dead. I had seen them rise from the grave and gnaw at your Achilles Heel, I saw them consume the masses that I once worked to protect, and most of all, and I had seen them break the laws of a science that I had put my very own faith into, and break it into pieces and smother it with blood.

The buzzer of the electric lock made me flinch and the bars to my cell and the others slid open like a ghost had set us free. I walked forward to see what was going on and for what particular reason the doors had been opened… but my vision was blinded when the lights in the halls slammed into darkness.

_Great._

It was at this point that I found myself believing that my health was at stake and putting matters into my own, now filthy hands, was what set me apart from the other disgusting ingrates who would perish. The hall was cold, goosebumps pin-pricking the skin on my arms and neck, and I began to relish in my own pain. It was something that I _must _learn from to become stronger.

I heard the prisoners cackle with madness, shouting my irritating pet name…

_Wolf._

I began to believe that this was me. It was who I would be forever… The Wolf.

An animal subjected to wonder endlessly throughout time, for I could not die. It was a boundless entity that would forever be residing inside because I knew that I couldn't control myself… and I finally had to admit, that my brother was right.

I was just as horrid as he was.

XXXXX

_(Claire's POV)_

There was no more noise… it was quite, just how I wanted it to be because it hadn't been like this for weeks. I wanted all of the beeps to stop, all of the footsteps to halt, and all of the lights to seize their flickering.

The voices of the doctors were pouring into my ears. They sounded frantic, terrified actually. There was a sense of foreboding within their cries; they were running about, like ants away from water.

"Miss Redfield!"

I looked up, seeing a doctor, blood smearing his face, eyes wild. He was standing in the doorway.

"Run!" He was tripped up onto the floor, smashing his chin onto the tile and spitting it wide open. He was dragged back on his stomach, screaming madly, and vocal cords cracking from the strain. "Help me!"

I jumped up to rescue him, but my timing was much too late as he was pulled away, scrapping and cracking his fingernails on the floor, leaving trails of bloody marks behind.

I ran out of the room after the doctor, wishing that there was something I could do, but for now, I had to protect my children. Thank god Patrick was at HQ with Chris today.

I could hear the patter of footsteps approaching me and my instincts kicked in like wildfire. I spun around; holding a metal pipe that I retrieved from the ground to the man's throat wishing it was a knife. "What the hell is going on?" I asked him lowly, trying my best to threaten him.

"We're all fucked!" He screamed eerily, "We're all gonna die!" He tried to break free of my grasp, for I was still holding the pipe up against his bloody skin. He squirmed, lashing out even; he didn't want to be held down for he was terrified.

"Whose blood is this?" I roared at him. "Tell me right now!"

He slumped, defeated and he let out a breath that was all too cold. "The Dead."

XXXXX

_(Chris' POV)_

"Chris?" said the boy in my ear. "What's that?"

I turned around to see what my nephew was calling out and there was a form at the end of the hallway, swaying back and forth as if it were drunk. It was slowly approaching us at my office and the clock on the wall ticked by. "What time is it, Pat?"

"9:10"

"Get behind the desk," I asked him and he complied.

"What is it?"

I pulled my gun from its holster, raising it, "Sir? I would advise you to halt." The man, who was still inching closer, did not comply with my request. "Sir, I will ask you again. Stop where you are."

"Chris?"

"Hush, Patrick." I chided him, I could feel his fear. "Hands behind your head!" I bellowed. My short temper did not help with this man, for I was growing impatient and would not feel any sympathy whatsoever if he was drunk. "Forget this…" I mumbled and walked through the opened door of my office, stalking towards the man, gun in one hand.

"Wait!" Patrick ran up behind me put kept his distance. The all too familiar scent of rotting flesh struck my nose and I cringed. I pulled the trigger to my gun and Patrick hit the deck, just like I taught him to. The bullet struck the pursuer in the chest, knocking him onto the ground.

I ran towards the figure, "Sir…" The man lashed out at me from his spot on the ground and I slammed my boot into his face, crushing the nose. He still came at me, trying to get to its feet, groaning. I pumped one bullet into his forehead and his movements halted. I bent down to look at his face. His lips were gone and his teeth were flashing bloody white. The skins over his eyelids were gone as well and there was a massive cave where his left temple used to be, his brains leaking from the hole and ear.

A zombie.

I doubled back and landed on my ass, panic set in hard and I wanted to scream. This could _not _be, this was utterly impossible. I had seen the last of these ugly motherfuckers in Europe and would _not _deal with another one of these slack-jawed flesh junkies.

"Patrick we have to get out of here right now." I told him while getting up. "We're going to see if Braxton is ok and then we're spitting."

"What was that?" He asked quietly. He was shaking and his face had blanched.

"A monster." I led him down the hallway and passed other offices. There wasn't a sign of another Walker and I hoped to god that the one we saw back there was the only one. We came upon Braxton's office and the door was propped open slightly, I began to shake, my hands were trembling and became cold. The pound in my hands was beginning to tire me out. "Chief?" I asked, not walking into the room just yet. It was at this point that I realized that the power had gone out and there were only a few lights flickering here and there. I pushed open the door with the butt of my gun and swept the room with my eyes.

The desk that sat in the middle was knocked over and the lamp was shattered into several pieces that now littered the wood floor and crimson rug. The window was broken, the wind coursing in from beyond. The darkness of the night made my stomach ache, for he had encountered this same fear before. Blood smeared the walls and shards of broken glass, the coat closet was swung wide open and the doorknob was dripping with fresh, ruby blood. It smelled also, gore was caked to every surface of the room; it looked like a mass murder crime scene. I noticed that there were a pair of legs sticking out from the closet and he ran to investigate. Braxton's body was twisted in an unholy manner; his face was ripped open with what looked like brute force. The fingers on his right hand were all broken as well as his nose which was smashed like a plump watermelon. His eyes were closed but his expression would forever be frozen in terror.

I covered my nose with the crook of my elbow and I could hear Patrick's footsteps approach. "No! Patrick you stay over there I don't want you to see this."

Whoever or whatever had done this to Braxton was angry. I thought that maybe a few zombies had gotten to him but there was no signs of them feasting on his flesh, for most of it remained intact.

It could have been a Tyrant, though. If there were zombies, then there was no doubt that their sick, mutated cousins were lurking about as well. But, I didn't see any and if there _was _a Tyrant, it would have probably found them first.

I stood up and left the office, there was nothing else to see but massacre.

XXXXX

Wesker made his way out of the halls and cell blocks. He could hear people screaming from every area around him and had to make the dreaded assumption that the BSSA HQ was under attack from the dead. It was no surprise to him, though. It was, and every time he saw it happen relished in it again, a sickening chain of events that would lead to ultimate destruction. Only one would have to be infected and the rest didn't stand a chance. It would get into your blood, burrow into your brain. Countless lives altered in an instant… and only one would have to bite another.

And the rest would follow suit.

Wesker kept his back straight and face stern. It was his way of showing confidence without having to flaunt some human emotion such as excitement in one's own confidence. The halls were dark and with his failing hyper senses, Wesker began to take more cautious steps towards his victory.

All's he needed to do was get outside.

Get out of this hell-hole, find Claire, and avoid Alex. He made it into the main lobby and there was nobody in sight. An eerie feel to the room made Wesker uncomfortable, anxious even. He was not magical and could not predict the future but what he could deduct from his situation, HQ was under attack from the living dead. The ghosts of his past that had come back to reap in the shadow of his mistakes.

Something was knocked over in the distance and it made Wesker whip around and face the darkness. His heart raced and he began to sweat ever-so-slightly. There was a deep, menacing feel to the room now and all's he could do was wonder in the dark. His boot crushed something beneath it and he bent over to pick it up with help from the little light that flitted from the dying lights.

It was a black origami crane.

He eyed it skeptically… it was completely out of the ordinary. Something inside of Wesker told him to watch his back, for the scrap of paper was a harbinger of death.

"Fragile." A voice mocked in the dwindling darkness. "That is what it represents. And you know who it reminds me of?"

Wesker rose from his spot, keeping his back to his enemy. His temper flared like a bull…

"Alex." Wesker spat.

"It reminds me of father. He was a weak, selfless man who never saw the point in family and _that _is what made him a disposable."

"You know how he was…" Wesker started smugly. "Or don't you?"

Words like these infuriated Alex Wesker. His one and true hero _was _their father when he was a child but in those innocent few years, Albert Wesker had taken all of that away from him. He was favored over the two, attracting more of their father's attention in minutes than Alex would ever have in years. Alex's personal vendetta set him aside from Wesker when it came to reasons and rights. Alex wouldn't give up until Wesker paid every minute that Alex had lost, and would not rest until he saw the remainder of his bloodline perish. When they were children, Wesker would always be the favorite of Spencer and their father. He would then grow up knowing that he had a brother, he would also grow up knowing that his father was a cynical brute who loved nothing more than money and power. Some of Nicholas's greed rubbed off on Albert Wesker while some of Nicholas's slyness rubbed off on Alex Wesker. Either way, their father had given both of his son's one trait to share.

Violence.

They both learned to hate the hand that had created them, and in the end, Wesker had to settle his debt.

A blossom of pain spread to the back of Wesker's neck and he doubled over, falling face first. Alex stood above him, dusting off his hands and cracking his neck. "I've waited much too long for this chance." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun, pointed it at Wesker's head and smiled wickedly.

As if something had possessed him, Wesker swept Alex's legs and he fell forward. Wesker got to his feet and smashed his elbow into the back of his neck, slamming him into the ground, his gun sliding across the floor.

"Impressive." Alex said smugly, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "But you'll have to work a lot harder to get me to beg."

Alex ripped a knife from his belt and slashed out, Wesker dodged it by mere millimeters. The brothers were now eye to eye, Wesker was already heaving from exhaustion.

"Sickness taking its toll, Al?" Alex mocked.

He a blur, Wesker slammed all of his weight into Alex, sending him flying across the room and sliding onto his back. Wesker blocked his way and grabbed his brother by the neck, lifting him up from the ground and knocking the knife from his hands. Alex chuckled and sucked in a breath. "You are quite the fighter, brother." Wesker squeezed even tighter, trying with the little might he had to cut off his windpipe. "Too bad it'll go to waste." He laughed wickedly, "I was looking forward to a good match."

Alex slammed his foot into Wesker's stomach and he dropped him, sucking in large breaths to fill his winded lungs. Alex took this point of recovery to retrieve his knife. He charged at his brother with a roar but was a little too late for the stab. Wesker raised his arms to protect himself as best he could and Alex drowned the knife into his skin. Wesker roared with pain and Alex delivered a wicked right hook to his brother's jaw. One after another, the punches were thrown, uppercuts were taken, and kicks pronounced. Wesker ripped the knife from his arm and slashed at Alex like a wild animal. This only amused the younger brother as he easily dodged every deadly swipe of the Swiss Blade.

Alex growled and subdued Wesker with a blow to the chin that snapped his head back and he wrenched the knife from his hand. He brought down the blade of bloody steel and sunk it into his shoulder, Wesker howled and threw a punch and missed.

"Pathetic…" Alex whispered as his brother's figure slumped to his knees from pure exhaustion. "It's really a shame that you can't keep up with me anymore."

Alex twirled the knife in his hand and stalked towards his brother and bent down to his eye level. Wesker's red eyes were burning out and blood smeared every inch of his body. Alex took Wesker by his bad shoulder and squeezed it with brute force. It made Wesker spit a groan that was almost too quite to hear. Alex brought his lips to Wesker's ear… "And _you _remind me of father…" He sunk his knife into Wesker's stomach to the hilt. "Weak."

An almost inaudible cry of pain slipped out of him and his eyes began to shift into blackness. But a spark of pure insanity, a kick to the fury so mighty that Wesker thought it might drive him mad. He wrenched the knife from his stomach and whipped himself back; Alex faltered from the sudden spring of action and saw the flash of steel plunder down upon his face. Wesker let a roar of voracity rip from his throat as he slammed the knife into the side of Alex's face and he could hear steel scrape bone. Alex screamed in pain, pain that he never thought could exist. He doubled backwards and pulled the knife from his cheek. He dropped it onto the floor with a clatter and held his hand to the gushing wound. "You'll _pay _for that." He seethed.

Wesker didn't know where he went, or if he had just closed his eyes and he was gone.

Alex Wesker was nowhere to be found. He crawled to the front doors of the building, mustering all of the strength that still resided with him. He got to his feet and shoved open the doors, the cold air of night and winter blanketed him and it made goosebumps prickle his skin. Snow had accumulated in the streets of New York City. Silence was all that graced Wesker's ears and it was deafening. There were no car horns or police sirens.

Just sickening silence.

He could no longer hold his own and he crashed to his knees in the ankle-deep snow. He hung his head as blood trickled down from his nose and shoulder. The gore spreading out of his black shirt and into the snow. A ring of blood had now surrounded him as the remainder percolated into the white frost of winter. The rest of Wesker's body had hit the ground, stained with pain and racked with defeat.

The night slowly became his ally and Wesker hoped he could get some form of rest… for today was lost.

In the dead of winter, the city rang quietly; the lights had long since died away. Noise had migrated away from the streets and into the distant states. No one lined the walkways, no one even dared to leave their homes.

The dead now owned this city.

Albert Wesker had now been crushed upon the sidewalk, passed out from exhaustion and trying to rest upon a stone mattress.

That is, if the dead permitted him to.

**A/N: HOLY SHARK! That was my longest chapter yet! I wanted this because the last two were so short. So things don't look too swell for our hero's! Can they survive the dead city to come? Or will they perish like Alex wants them too? Find out soon enough in the next installment to **_**Shadow of Me.**_


	23. Beasts Of Burden

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

_**Angleinthedark19: Thank you so much! You made me giddy just reading what you had to say! Please continue with your amazing words!**_

_**Naoko Suki: You're welcome!**_

_**Bhernandez02897: *Hides behind Wesker* Um… they're a psycho… Please Wesker save me.**_

_**Tomoko Takami: Shanks!**_

_**Moonlight Shadow Huntress: Welcome back! Yeah, Wesker has to get out of that snow!**_

_**Pink almonds: Thanks for all the reviews! I try to make Alex very different from Wesker but still quite similar in the violence category for they were raised by the same father and all. **_

**Chapter 23: Beasts of Burden**

Wesker was still sunk into the snow outside of the BSAA Head Quarters. His skin had paled and the wounds from his fight with Alex had not healed and had ultimately resulted in a dangerous amount of blood loss. His breath was warped into a white mist from the cold that was still hanging about. Blood had caked his hands, face, or safe to say, the majority of his body. Wesker crushed his eyes shut even tighter and groaned, pain racked every inch of his form and a wicked headache had begun to torrent at the very front of his brain. His hand made a fist that crunched the snow, digging deep and scraping his fingernails on the sidewalk. He was on his stomach, his face sideways in the snow like an icy pillow. His clothes were tattered from battle and his skin was dry and tight.

Fog had begun to accumulate in the streets and still there was no noise to be had. He wondered why the dead had not come upon him, if they had really roamed the streets, that is. The fog was thick, blocking his vision when at times he would crack open his eyes. It moved slowly into the streets, tumbling in such a very sloth-like in pace.

_**Spare me your judgments and spare me your dreams,  
>Cause recently mine have been tearing my seams.<br>I sit alone in this winter, clarity which clouds my mind.**_

"Albert…" A voice started close by. "Albert what are you doing?" It asked with scrutiny in its words.

Wesker raised his head barely in inch from the ground and forced his fading red eyes to wander. He opened his mouth to suck in air but it stung his lungs which made his pain much worse. His head slammed back onto the snow, feeling as if it weighed a ton.

"You're just gonna lie there? You're just gonna give up?" The voice asked.

Wesker crushed more snow in his fist, trying to call the strength he needed to sit up or stand. "What do you want me to do?" He asked to, obviously, no one in particular.

"Wake up. You can't mope here and expect everything to be ok."

Wesker pulled himself up into a push-up position, his arms shaking from exhaustion. "Yeah?" He seethed. "And who the hell are you to tell _me _what to do?"

"Open your eyes, you idiot."

Wesker's eyes did as they were told and he looked up at his agitator. "…William?"

Wesker's long dead friend smiled down at him and leaned against a garbage can.

"You're dead…" Wesker breathed.

"You were always really bad at using your imagination." William's ghost said smugly. His expression then deepened, for what he had said before was serious. "You need to move." He said. "You're not going to let Alex get away are you?"

Wesker sat in the snow, rubbing snow into his severe wounds. "There's nothing I can do anymore, Will. He's already won."

"But you know how to defeat _him_."

Wesker looked up, confused at the ghost's words. "You're gravely mistaken, William. Alex is a monster."

"And you're not?" William pushed.

"Don't…" Wesker warned.

When he and Wesker were younger and working in the labs together, William would always taunt the fact that Wesker couldn't control himself and that was what made him to be. He was a cynic who saw the world and the human race in the simple, monotone colors of black and white. But his friend saw what he was trying and what he was getting at. All of those years, William was teaching Wesker how to be humble. He wasn't poking fun at his emotions but he was rather exposing them so that Wesker wouldn't be so numb to it all. In the end, William had done just a splinter of justice for Wesker.

_**Alone in the wind and the rain you left me,  
>It's getting dark darling, too dark to see.<br>And I'm on my knees, and your faith in shreds it seems.**_

"Don't you understand, Albert?" William prodded. "You and Alex are almost the same. The way you were manufactured was for the sole purpose of destruction. Spencer wanted nothing more than to have weapons that had minds. Alex, although brought up after you, had gained one thing you will_ never_ have…" He trailed off and looked down at his friend. "Hatred in your heart."

Wesker chuckled at his ample words, "You cannot be serious." He got to his feet and used a tree to support for his failing body. "I'm standing here talking to a _ghost!" _He laughed hysterically. "A fucking figment of my imagination that…"

William raised his eyebrow and smirked in silent triumph.

"That's telling me I can't subdue myself anymore." Wesker looked at the ground and back up to the ghost. "That no matter where I go…"

William nodded at the raw realization of life and how much it hurt. "You'll always be a monster."

William wasn't here to reassure Wesker. He was here to tell it like it was. Truth was always before reason and reason never stood a chance in the men's world. Truth was never wrong, for it was, well, the _truth._ Neither of them could lie, or for that matter, lied in their lifetime, they had just simply twisted the words around. And William knew that Wesker was just an animal that would one day run about and never return. He wasn't built to be tied down but to conquer and defeat. He wasn't raised to give up everything that he had loved, but to carry it with him wherever he may roam.

Wesker began to feel numb all over; it was the sheer cold closing in on his weak body. There was the real threat of freezing to death out here if he didn't do something. His stomach roared and Wesker frowned. He had to find some food before he either froze or starved to death.

Dandy.

"Catch ya later, Al." William said flatly.

Wesker whipped around and jogged towards his late friend's apparition, "Wait, William!"

But with the tip of his imaginary hat and a smile, he dissipated with the fog.

Wesker was alone.

_**Corrupted by the simple sniff of riches blown,  
>I know you have felt much more love than you've shown.<br>And I'm on my knees and the water creeps to my chest.**_

He rubbed his arms and then his face with his hands, for his skin was becoming number the longer he just stood around. Wesker peered down, his blood still staining the snow as it still dripped steadily from a gushing cut above his eye. A howling whip of wind pushed his body forward slightly, it was a mighty gust that was brewing and it only symbolized more horrid weather on the way.

Buildings that were once visible were now obscured, for the cruel fog had obstructed everything that had once been teeming the empty streets. The only thing Wesker could do was move. Move and find Claire, which was his one constant. His boots crunched under the snow and the silence of the city was making him very uncomfortable. His black t-shirt was soaked with blood as was his skin, for god's sake; the man could be a walking smorgasbord for zombies.

Then there were growls behind him, growls that sounded off a warning. Wesker slowly turned to face his opponent and his eyes faltered for one split second. There, in the dead of winter and in such a dissimilar manner, was a pride of lions. Clearly, the animals he was confronted with had escaped from the zoo due to the power-outage and no one bothered to round them up. They surrounded him, eyeing him with their yellow hues. There were about eight females and one large male. The snow had accumulated on their fur and manes while blood from what looked like fresh kills, smeared their toothy maws.

Wesker took one step back, careful not to startle the animals into an attack. They were on the prowl, and he was dinner. Yet then, like a gift from god, a heard of antelope bounded down the street right across from them, they dodged cars as they leapt for safety and body heat, as they were not accustomed to such cold. The lions were distracted from their human entrée and decided the hunt would suit them more, not that Wesker wouldn't have given them a run for their money. As the lions boxed in a few helpless antelope, Wesker's stomach began to growl some more and as he watched a female lion snap the neck of her target, his animal-like instincts that he had adopted with T, kicked in on full drive. The smell of blood that assaulted his nose when the predators shredded into the prey, and the sounds of bones being snapped from the raw power of fang-filled jaws.

It drove him mad.

Wesker spotted an antelope that was blocked by a few stationary cars as it mewled for assistance. His hands itched to take hold and snap its spine in two… and his stomach agreed. When Wesker was on a rampage, he was willing to do just about anything. He recalled the times he had hunted sheep in Prague to satisfy The Beast that corrupted his head. And this time, that rage would not subside, this time, like the others, he would entertain The Beast. He moved in, stalking slowly towards the animal that was caught helplessly between three unmovable objects. It kicked and bucked, breaking windows and scratching paint but begging for help wasn't going to make Wesker any more sympathizing. When the antelope picked up the scent of danger, its only emotion it projected was fear. Its eyes dilated and urine trickled down its hind legs. It bawled in panic but this only made Wesker want it more. He climbed over the top of the front SUV, peering down at the animal he was about to have the pleasure in slaughtering. It ran about in circles, trying one last time to escape its awful fate. Wesker's eyes burned and his stomach roared, hunger was controlling him now.

He hopped off the car and right onto the back of the animal, they both fell backwards and the creature bucked, kicking Wesker right in the jaw. He growled and pinned the animal on its stomach, it bawled and struggled but to no avail. One hand wrapped around its warm neck and squeezed while the other fumbled for a piece of broken glass that was lying on the road. The antelopes mouth was beginning to fill with blood as Wesker plunged a scraggily shard of glass into its belly.

Its hapless cries for mercy were silenced.

_**But plant your hope with good seeds.  
>Don't cover yourself with thistle and weeds.<br>Rain down, rain down on me…  
>Look over your hills and be still,<br>The sky above us shoots to kill,  
>Rain down, rain down on me…<strong>_

He could feel the lion's eyes on him through the broken windows of the vehicles, he could sense their curiosity. Wesker silently removed the internal organs and disposed of them to his side. He felt like his old self again… Dr. Wesker. He felt as if he hadn't sliced into a corpse in years. The feeling of removing flesh was something that most people found to be a taboo in society, yet, Wesker had always been fascinated with the fact that something that was created to protect you, could be easily removed with the help of something sharp. Scraping out the meat from the inside, Wesker really had no choice but to eat it raw like the predators who watched him. He ate to himself, not really minding the dull taste of blood that he had gotten used to. The meat was warm, and it almost melted in his mouth like a rare stake, and that was what he thought about while eating. Trying to stay away from the fact that he had just slaughtered an animal and was not consuming its meat raw.

Wesker continued eating until he was full and was sure that he wouldn't have to ever do it again. He tried rinsing some of the blood from his hands and face with snow, but it did little justice for the stains that were beginning to dry. He heaved the corpse of the antelope onto his shoulder and hopped onto the hood of the SUV, coming around to the other side; he dropped the body and observed his onlookers. He began to walk towards the hospital that Kaya was emitted into, that was where he would start looking for them.

"It's all yours." He said to the beasts that licked their chops for another meal.

_**I begged you to hear me, there's more than flesh and bones,  
>Let the dead bury their dead, they will come out in droves.<br>Take the spade from my hands and fill in the holes you've made.**_

The hospital was empty and Wesker's heart sank in his chest. There was absolutely nobody in sight. He walked through the front doors and the lobby was smeared with blood and bodies. There were nurses, doctors, and patients galore. He tried to recall Kaya's room number, or for that matter, the room he was kept in. He was sure that the staff had kept them in the same general area.

He approached the main elevator and stopped to read the message that was written in blood on the doors.

"_DON'T GO._

_DEAD UP THERE."_

So now, Wesker could conclude that the hospital had been overrun by walkers. He, despite the warning he was given, pushed the button for the elevator.

No response.

The power grid must still be out and will probably be out for good. He then opted on taking the stairs to investigate the remainder of the floors. He passed a room that had a television flipped on. He was greeted with static from the box and decided to flip through channels just in case. Then, after scanning through over thirty channels, a broken and static-filled news bulletin was currently broadcasting.

"_The infected area has been quarantined, we expect a full recovery in a few months tops." _

"_And what about the people inside? Will they be able to leave?" _

"_Not a chance. Those who had gotten stuck behind those walls is, unfortunately, a goner. We can't risk a state, to global spread of this virus. It is highly dangerous and is recommended that if you see an infected being, contact the police department immediately. You should not, and I repeat, should __not __approach the infected."_

"_What happens if you have no choice but to confront one?" _

"_It seems that bashing in their skulls and mutilating the brain works the best but I strictly must convey that you should for no reason, approach the infected. If you're bitten or even scratched, you are most likely going to become infected yourself."_

"_Thank you,"_

"_Absolutely."_

"_Ladies and gentlemen who are still tuned in, that was Chief Dexter Manson, head of the Biohazard and Chemical Containment Service. You are advised to stay in your homes, do not wander into any open areas and wait for help to arrive… god save us all."_

Wesker turned off the television. This was for real; this town was falling apart just like Raccoon. Only this time, the lives of those Wesker loved, were in terrible danger.

_**But plant your hope with good seeds,  
>Don't cover yourself with thistle and weeds.<br>Rain down, rain down on me…**_

**A/N: Oh my, this is really getting bad! So, NY is under quarantine and nobody is allowed to leave, infected or not. Will Wesker find Claire and his kids? Or will the dead claim their souls? Tune in next time!**


	24. Water To The Dead

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

**So, softball season has started and this means that things here will be slowing down. This does NOT mean that I'm abandoning you guys, it just means that I won't have chapters up regularly and they may be late. Yet, do not fret, I'm still here.**

_**Maleficmistress: You're back! I missed you! Please, please, PLEASE stay for the rest! I don't want you to go away again! I thought you were gone forever, I really did lol. Yeah, you're right about the subconscious mind, I'm in Psychology right now and I already took sociology so I think that the subconscious stuff was really interesting and that spurred me to think of this. I think that even though William is dead, Wesker will forever hold high respect for his one and only true friend. **_

_**AngleInTheDark19: Aw! Thank you! Yes, I love a feral, uncontrollable Wesker. At that point, he's my favorite to write and put a lot of detail into him. Please continue to leave your kind words here, I love your reviews!**_

_**Moonlight Shadow Huntress: Oh fellow friend, many surprises lie in wait for our troubled Wesker.**_

_**Tomoko Takami: Yay! You're back too! Thank you! I'm glad you think it's the best!**_

_**Pink almonds: You are the best! Do you know that? Nightmares are horrid but I like to write them because dreams and or nightmares could be anything you want them to be. The Walking Dead gives me some of my inspiration and sort of spurred me to write RE fics after I read most of the comics and then when the show came out, the scenes blew me away and that's where I get some of my ideas. And you can take all the time you need to read and catch up. As long as you stick around, you, miss, have all the time in the freaking world. **_

_**Chris Coard: YOU'RE BACK! YOU MOTHERFUCKERYOU'REBACK! I LOVE YOU! Please stay…? I'm begging you. **_

"_What was the use of doing great things if I could have a better time telling her what I was going to do?"_

_-Jay Gatsby_

**Chapter 24: Water to the Dead**

There was no sound.

None.

The hospital had long since been abandoned by the living and was now possibly home to the dead. Wesker didn't pick up anything. No unfamiliar scents or sounds and only that of silence and it was deafening. He slowly made his way up every flight, squinting in the dwindling light and the depravity of sun from outside. In some halls, every inch of the floors and walls were covered in blood and in some, carcasses were littering the ground, some civilians and some… of another other kind.

Wesker came to a break a hall where a set of double doors were chained shut. It looked as if it was closed off quickly so that the Walkers could not enter from the other side. He approached the door seeing that there was a flight of emergency stairs that would get him up quicker. There were no lights on in his side of the hallway but there were dimming florescent ones on the other half. He peered through the skinny glass panels that served as windows and at the end of the hallway; there was a Walker void of its legs, crawling about in search of flesh. Wesker grimaced with disgust and proceeded to snap the lock from the handles. He tossed the chain to the floor and it rattled through the empty halls. He stalked down the walkway, rage welling up in his body.

Rage at harbored towards himself.

For he had created these demons that were damned to walk this earth, he had created this plague that discarded all human limitations and took everything that man had known to new levels. Wesker ultimately hated himself for an accident that should have been handled the day it was forced upon the land. There was nothing that could stop it now. The T-Virus was utterly indestructible and what it lacked in sustaining compatible hosts, it made up for it in the acts of genocide.

_**Just because I'm losing,  
>Doesn't mean I'm lost.<br>Doesn't mean I'll stop.  
>Doesn't mean I'm across.<strong>_

Wesker retrieved a knife from a fallen S.W.A.T. member and had also stripped the man of his black t-shirt under his Kevlar. He wiped the knife on his slacks and gripped the handle with such force, that he thought it might snap. The zombie was now aware of his presence as Wesker purposely teased it with the smell of his warm, blood-flowing flesh. It swiped its arms to and fro, trying to get one scratch so it could relish in the smell of its victims bodily fluids. Wesker deducted that this Walker was female and had been "dead" for quite some time seeing that its lips were rotted away and eyelids peeled back. Although impaired without both legs, the creature still pulled itself along, trying to get at Wesker. He only stared it down, and almost felt sorrow for the poor lost soul. Yet, pity was not an aspect in this world now. This world was dead, no longer able to function for it was dropped into the very pits of Hell. With a continued frown on his face, Wesker raised his leg and with a roar, slammed his boot into its skull, crushing it into bits and splattering the brain across the floor and nearby walls. Her movements halted and the arms dropped to the floor.

He scraped his boot off onto a wall and took one last glance over his shoulder to the one mistake he would never be able to rectify.

_Just move on, Albert. _He told himself. _They are nothing more than petty immigrants who have invaded your land and it is your duty to rid them of the earth._

He climbed up a flight of emergency stairs. It was dark through the flights, Wesker could only see inches in front of his face and his only source of light was the emergency red light flashing every other second. Watching his steps, he could feel his boots splash into shallow pools of blood that had accumulated upon the stairs from victims of doomsday. The icy steel railing was smeared in gore and in turn, the waves of blood that assaulted Wesker's nose were beginning to make him thirsty. He wanted to kill, take all of his anger out on something that would be unable to defend itself. He would show no mercy and no remorse for his subjects. They would suffer his wrath and his raw emotion towards his own mistake.

XXXXX

Claire paced.

Her shoes were squeaking on the clean floors of the highest level of the hospital. She was waiting. Waiting for what, she had no idea. Claire wanted a sign before she made a move to leave the hospital. First off, she would _not _leave her daughter in this hellhole and second, Claire had a gut feeling that either Chris or Wesker would arrive to find her. She hoped to whatever god was up there that Patrick was still with Chris and Wesker at least escaped from HQ. When in doubt, Claire worried. And when Claire worried, an entire world of imaginary scenarios was though up. If that happened, then this was surly to happen as to follow. Wesker always called it her "Sense and Sensibility."

Only if he was here to tell her it was alright. Because as of late, things were far from it. The peaceful world that she thought she had been living in was now corrupted into another undead hellhole.

_**Just because I'm hurting,  
>Doesn't mean I'm hurt.<br>Doesn't mean I didn't get what I deserved.  
>No better and no worse.<strong>_

XXXXX

The stairs were taking longer than Wesker had originally anticipated. The power was out so elevators weren't an option and wandering around the open floors was vulnerability at its most daring state. The only things that were flooding his mind were the smells of blood. For it was everywhere, and because of this, Wesker really had to hold back this time. Yet, another scent began to waft throughout his nose, and that was the smell of Claire.

She was here.

He could smell her fear, her worry, and her sadness. When he tried harder, Wesker could hear her breathing and the occasional sob that she would choke on. He picked up the pace and gripped the railing with all his might, skipping two or three steps at a time, just waiting for the door at the end to appear. And when it did, he ripped it open, the steel clattering off its hinges.

"Claire!" She looked up to his very direction and her mouth fell open with a sigh of relief ever-so-slightly. She ran towards him, limping as she did so.

She began to cry as he swept her up into his weakening arms and buried his face into her neck. She sobbed harshly, as if she was utterly unable to contain her emotions. He pulled her back so that their foreheads rested upon one another. She kissed his nose softly and this made Wesker close his eyes slowly, relishing in the touch that he thought he would never feel again. Claire smiled, and although he didn't see it, he could feel it. All of the emotions that he had sensed earlier were gone, he had reclaimed her. She placed her lips upon his own and cupped his face in her hands, never wanting to let him go.

_**I just got lost.  
>Every river that I tried to cross.<br>Every door I ever tried was locked.  
>And I'm just waiting till the shine wears off.<strong>_

"Albert…" Claire whispered softly between their kiss. "I love you."

And that was that.

There wasn't anything else either of them could say at the moment.

For this moment was perfect.

Beauty and the Beast really _did_ love one another, and that was something nobody would come to deny. Save for Chris but, that was something both of them were willing to deal with.

They stayed like that for a while, holding each other, fearing that they would slip away again. Claire noticed that Wesker's breath was harsh and that his skin was unnaturally cold. His eyes, she had noticed, that when he had opened them for a second, were dull. Not full of the ember that burned behind them at all times. He was also quite pale. And although Wesker was usually not a sun-tanned stud, his skin was never as pale as she saw it this day. Typically, Wesker's skin was slightly a tone under tan. Not vampire white.

It worried her and Wesker hated when she worried about him. For most of the time, there was no reason to do so. Yet today, something was horribly wrong with him. She could almost feel his struggle in the atmosphere. Crawling about, trying to reenter Wesker's body and spark.

"Were you attacked by them?" Claire asked him softly, stepping out of his grip.

"By _them?_" Wesker recited with subtle scrutiny in his tone.

Claire nodded; she knew something else was up. Wesker would never be this exhausted if he simply had to face a pack of flesh junkies. But rather, Wesker was weak. Claire knew this. He almost died three weeks ago because he got wreaked by a car.

His virus? Obviously no help at the moment. Like he said, he was sick. And when Wesker was sick, errors were lurking just below the surface of utter failure.

"I was attacked by something much more horrific than _them_." He pointed out.

Claire glared at him, "Then what, Albert?" She wanted to know. No, scratch that, she _needed _to know what had happened to him while they were separated. Her entire family's fate fell upon this single, now helpless man. He could now do nothing. Although Albert Wesker was proven to be as violent as they come, he still could not triumph over his greatest adversary.

Himself.

"Alex." He began, looking away from her as if the name humiliated him. "Alex Wesker."

"What?" Claire gaped as she took a step towards him. "I thought you were the only one left."

"No." Wesker said sternly. "No I was not."

"Tell me." Claire asked quietly.

_**You might be a big fish,  
>In a little pond.<br>Doesn't mean you've won.  
>'Cause along may come,<br>A bigger one.**_

"Alex is my half-brother. While my father was married to my mother, he was having an affair with another woman across town. She got pregnant and gave birth to Nicholas' second son. Yet, this son was more unwanted than the first, myself. Nicholas denied every claim that the boy was his yet, deep down; he knew it to be true. When my mother was murdered, I was ten and Alex would have been three. Over the years, I had endured my father's wrath and soon to be Alex's sorrow. I hadn't met him until I was sixteen. He was a scrawny little boy who had twenty dollars to his very name and nothing to look back or forward to. He begged me for help. And I denied."

Claire looked a little stunned and tried to take in all of the Wesker family history. "Why?"

"Because like my father, Alex wanted everything handed to him on a silver platter and I was not going to give it to him. He saw that I was completely serious and vowed to take everything I ever had away from me. Because that is what I had done to him. Ultimately, I had deprived Alex Wesker of a childhood. After my father left his mother, she became abusive. The very opposite was happening to Alex as the other was happening to me. You see, after my father perished, Alex saw his opportunity to strike. He though that because losing both of my parents, I would be depressed and unable to function. Yet, this was most certainly not the case. I was still, and forever will be, mourning over my mother's untimely death, but my father deserved every deal of pain ever given to him. I do not deny my hand in the murder of Nicholas Wesker."

"There has to be a break in your story somewhere. Somewhere that Alex is willing to forgive you! He can't just assume that his life sucks all because of you! That's not true, Albert."

"I regret to inform you that it is." Wesker looked passed Claire and began to stalk towards her. She sucked in a breath just as she though he was about to dish out anger or something of the other, he plunged a knife into a one-armed Walker. Wesker wrenched the knife through an eye socket and grimaced at the smell which was quite overbearing. The zombie fell dead to the floor, twitching, releasing its last bits of useless energy.

_**And you'll be lost.  
>Every river that you tried to cross,<br>Every gun you ever held went off.  
>And I'm just waiting till the firing's stopped…<br>And I'm just waiting till the shine wears off…**_

He turned to face her, tiny speckles of blood crossed upon his handsome face. Dropping the knife to the ground, he let it clatter there, unceremoniously. He didn't take his fading red eyes off her river-like blues. Those eyes of his were filled with sadness that no other man had ever shown her. They were deep, swimming with an underlying meaning. His lips were parted ever-so-slightly, as if he wished to speak but could not. He blinked softly, as if it pained him to stray his vision away from her for less than a mere second. He opened his lips, trying to speak, yet again, the words would not form. He was struggling with himself, and he took one small step towards her, lightly brining up his fingers to reach for her own. "I love you." He said brokenly, voice no more than a whisper. "Most ardently."

Here was hope.

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait. I've been quite lazy. So here are my references for I did use quite a lot of outside ideas. The very top quote before the chapter title is from the wonderful book, **_**The Great Gatsby.**_** The book that inspires me so. The song is called Lost by Coldplay. And the last words from Wesker are courtesy of the dashing Mr. Darcy. **


	25. Your Sickly Blood

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

**So did you guys hear? Jake Muller, otherwise known as the mysterious man assisting Sherry Birkin in the RE6 trailer is actually Wesker's son? Yep. Hey, remember that time when Wesker had a kid? Well neither did I. lol. **

_**AngleInTheDark19: I'm really glad that you look forward to the updates! Thank you for supporting me through all of my hell. This story will get better and better, I assure you. So stick around and please don't fall off the face of the earth like my 10 other reviewers did.**_

_**Moonlight Shadow Huntress: Thanks!**_

_**Jalooloo: It's ok. You're not the only one that disappeared; I'm still missing quite a few of you guys.**_

_**Chris Coard: THANK YOU SO MUCH!**_

"_An old Cherokee told his grandson, "My son, there is a battle between two wolves inside us all. One is Evil. It is anger, jealously, greed, resentment, inferiority, lies, and ego. The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, humility, kindness, empathy, and truth."_

_The boy thought about it and asked, "Grandfather, which wolf wins?"_

_The old man quietly replied, "The one you feed."_

_~Unknown_

**Chapter 25: Your Sickly Blood**

I've gotten to that point in my life where sometimes all's I want to do is put a gun to my head, throw a rope in the rafters, take a knife to my throat, shove some pills down my gullet, or swallow one too many drinks. I can never have any form of peace or justice because my life is just one big fuck up.

I've already lost and Alex has won and to whom do I owe the pleasure of my pain?

Nicholas Wesker.

All of my hardships can be traced directly back to this monster. He planted the seed of evil in a woman down the street, unintentionally raised him to be a back-stabbing freak, left said woman down the street, fucked his unintentional son up, and died.

What a life.

All the while I waited. Waited as that sad, sorry little boy who just wanted daddy to come home and not smell like alcohol. We're not able to rely on others for assistance when all's they do is let you down. Yet, you continue to go back to them because you love them. I loved my father up until my mother died. I then realized that he was just a sick, twisted beast. He was dumped with the responsibility of a son and then expected to take charge.

Who was he kidding? That was a woman's job. Preferably, my mother's job. But now, she was rotting ten feet in the ground. The facts were all right in front of me, I was just too scared to look at them. Too scared to even _think _about the only outcome. When it all filed down, Alex and I would be the only Wesker's remaining, and truly, there was only room for one.

"Albert…" Claire said softly, "I can hear your teeth grinding from over here."

I looked up and sighed while I apologized. "What floor did you say she was on?"

"Ten."

For the time we had been walking which, I could deduct was for about twenty minutes, we encountered no Walkers. Just the smell of them or perhaps, the residual smell of them. Decay was not so easy on the nose or for that matter, the stomach. I hadn't eaten since this morning and who knows how long Claire's gone without food. I considered asking her yet, I thought that more pressing matters were at hand than her hunger. If Claire wished to address it, then I would concern it as well.

There was something swirling in my gut. Something that made my hair bristle on the back of my neck and goosebumps fleck my skin. I got cold; my body temperature dropped like a torpedo and my head began to swim with a horrid headache. I groaned and pushed my palm against my temple as if the cold touch of my flesh would make it go away.

"Hey… Are you ok over there?" Asked Claire, she addressed me with a worried look on her face.

I shook my head, trying to make the ache relent. "Yes…" I responded grimly. "Just have a damned headache."

Claire didn't stop with her worrying as I knew she would. "Do you want to sit down for a sec?"

I brushed off her question, "No. No that'll just waste time."

She didn't respond but inwardly I knew she was still concerned. There was a pleading in her eyes that I wanted to rectify. I didn't want her to worry. She was so bloody concerned for everything and yet, I could not blame her. She was as watchful as a mother wolf, powerful enough to stand up, and brave enough to tell me to halt. I thanked every deity I had for giving me Claire Redfield.

Still with my headache, we continued through the halls of the hospital, waiting until we reached the hopeful number of floor ten. Once we were on the ninth floor, my headache had become much worse. So bad, I thought my brains would begin to ooze out of my skull and join the rest of the carnage on the floor. What was causing it, I had that feeling again… the feeling that I was wrong about my estimations on how long I could survive without an injection. The fact was I needed one every day, twice a day. Otherwise, bodily terror would ensue. My nerves would be first, breaking down and becoming numb, next would be my bodily functions. If I had to take a leak, I wouldn't know it because of the nerve damage, if punched a wall of glass, I wouldn't feel the blood slipping from my veins. Then, and this was surly the worst part, I would lose all forms of my mindset. I would not be able to control my urges, my rage, my hate, my sadness. I would go through a mental breakdown and ultimately, succumb to death via, which I would most likely guess, self mutilation or suicide. Whichever would be most favorable that day.

"Your nose is bleeding," Claire pointed out.

I pushed my finger against my nostrils and felt the warm pool of blood exit. I ripped some paper towel from a dispenser on the walls among many others and pressed it against the flow of blood. There was a sharp pang in my skull and the blood came more violently.

This was a chain reaction.

I bolted ahead of Claire trying to find a supply room and once I did, I dropped my paper towel and fidgeted with the lock on bloody hands. I roared with frustration and snapped the lock, threw it to the ground and kicked the in the door. The only thing I could find while I was ripping bottles of pills of the stock shelf was a bottle of Vicodin. I could pop a few of those and maybe the pain would go away but it was hard to tell seeing that my condition was not that of a normal mans. We wouldn't stop climbing, for I wouldn't let us. I had to get my daughter out of this death trap otherwise; we would be swimming in a pool of the dead. I shoved the pills down my throat without any fluids to aid in its course.

I ignored her.

She was yelling at me and I ignored her. This very behavior mad her fidget uncomfortably for she knew I was doing it on purpose just so I could keep calm. Claire knew my nerves were on edge, the very way I walked in front of her gave off small signs of weakness and fear. She was apt to pick up on these because she knew the way I acted. She knew what made me tick, what made me shiver, and what made my gut grind. This was another situation in which I had no control of. My main goal was to get to flight ten, rip open the door to Kaya's room, and drag my Dear heart and my daughter out of this toxic vat of disgust.

**A/N: AHH I know this is really, really short. I put it up here for a filler because I'm too busy to write atm. Trust me, I'm still here, I'm not stopping because some asshole degraded my work, I'm not stopping because I've lost reviewers, and I most certainly not stopping because I'm giving up. This will continue, you just have to give me a swell amount of time in between each chapter to expect the next!**


	26. All Weak Hearts

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

**I just want to take some space up here to thank everyone for coming back out of your hardships to check on this story! It really means a lot to me that you all came back despite how busy you were. I seriously thought that all of you died or something. Please stick with me as I continue to give you and this story all of my love!**

_**Tomoko Takami: I promise that this chapter and the next few will be nice and long!**_

_**DarkCrimsonPhantom21: Hi there! I'm Abby and it's really nice to meet you, Albert! I hope you enjoy my stories as much as your sister and I really look forward to seeing your reviews here on Shadow of Me! Stick around, bro!**_

_**Maleficmistress: YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I'VE MISSED YOU! ALL'S I WANTED WAS FOR YOU TO COME BACK AND LOVE ME! How ya doing, my friend? I hope everything is going good for you as I am over here wailing on myself to write. And yes, somebody slammed my work but I'm over it now. The words that were exchanged between us weren't that friendly especially on the other persons side, but, I've learned to move on and not let that little, immature bastard, stop me from loving this story and you guys!**_

_**AngleInTheDark19: Thank you so much for your kind words :) **_

_**Chris Coard: Even though your reviews are simply one to two words, they really sum it up! Thanks for all your reviews and I hope you continue to love me!**_

_**Bhernandez02897: You're back too! Wow! I'm raking all of you guys back in! Take it easy, friend! Take as much time as you need to settle down, feel comfortable, and catch up. **_

_**Naoko Suki: I FUCKING MISSED YOUR BITCHASS! Sorry lol. Congratulations, mommy! I hope you're healthy and I sure to hope that your baby turns out healthy as well! I would love to hear news where you can muster it! Keep it touch, girl! Thank you for the review as well; I missed your words around here. Yes, Wesker is really pushing himself but for good reasons! But trust me, his strength won't last very much longer, he's going to start breaking down in this chapter and the next few so be aware of a mad Wesker! Our favorite! **_

_**MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: Welcome back! Can't wait to hear from you again on Chapter 26!**_

**Chapter 26: All Weak Hearts**

_**Living just to keep going.  
>Going just to be sane.<br>All the while I know,  
>It's such a shame.<br>I don't need to get steady.  
>I know just how I feel.<strong>_

There is was. Room 109. Her room.

Claire ran up to the door and tried to push the hospital gurney out of the way but to no avail. She had blocked it up and had used her adrenaline to do so. Now she was bone dry of energy. She beckoned to Wesker who ripped the bed from in front of the door with all of his weakening might. He strained and the veins on his neck popped up, his face got a ted redder, and his muscles flexed. The bed, heavier than he thought it would be, screeched out of the way with a horrid sound. And with a roar, Wesker flung the gurney four feet from its original spot and landed it on its side. He heaved in most wanted breaths and put his hands on his knees, bent over, he looked up at Claire and nodded.

She reached for the handle, only to hesitate.

"What's wrong…?" Wesker asked quietly?

"What if she's—"

Wesker cut her off, "No." He walked towards her and grabbed her arm firmly. "Don't you _dare _believe that she didn't come through. She's our daughter, she's strong and you know that, Claire. Don't you ever deny the impossible."

She only nodded, for words could not give her an answer. Claire reached for the doorknob and turned it slowly as if the buildup weren't exhausting enough. She closed her eyes, for the stench of decay had given her a migraine, and the very thought of death had made her stomach churn. With the door now open, the room was dark. The curtains were still drawn, just as Claire left them.

There she was.

Sleeping peacefully in her bed. Her hair was amiss, and her face was pale. Claire rushed over to her bedside, placing a hand on her arm. "She's cold…" She said quietly.

Wesker approached from the other side and checked for a pulse as if he was experimenting on a subject. "She's alive." This news made Claire sigh with utter relief. Her baby was alive; however, she still remained in a coma. Claire began to lift her from the bed when she and Wesker head the muffled moaning of a Walker.

Wesker looked about the room for something to defend Claire and Kaya with. He ran to the other side of the room where he broke open the glass to a fire axe case. "This will have to suffice…" Wesker mumbled under his breath. "Let's go." They exited the room as Claire carried her daughter bridal style and Wesker lurched in front of them with the axe. The sun was now beginning to set and soon, night would fall and the undead would roam an even more extensive territory for they would come out from parking garages and out from under highways, out of the sun and into the night.

"Stay close to me," Wesker prompted. "We need to get the hell out of here and onto the roof."

"What? The roof?" Claire asked strenuously.

Wesker nodded. "We have a better chance locating our next destination or signaling for help. Besides," he added, "We might be able to send Christopher and Patrick a signal."

When their walking became much more sluggish due to Claire holding Kaya and Wesker's body breaking down, they were almost to the emergency flight to the roof where they would set up an S.O.S.

Wesker twitched ever-so-slightly as he could have sworn to hear whispering coming from the very end of the hallway. "Did you hear that?"

"No."

"You don't hear that whispering?" Wesker said sternly and he rubbed his ear as if the noises ached in his head. He heard it again, this time much more prominent.

_Kill them. _

_Kill them all. _

_Take their lives._

_Snuff them out._

"No!" Wesker roared and he swung the axe into the wall. Claire jumped back slightly.

"What the hell, Albert?"

"They're telling me to do it…"

"Who's telling you to do what?"

"They're telling me to kill them. Catch them and kill them. Take their lives…"

Claire knew that this was just a stage in his body's mental and physical breakdown. She swung Kaya around so she held her like a baby, he legs dangling around Claire's waist and she approached Wesker with utmost caution. Although she trusted him, she still felt slightly uncomfortable with his renegade attitude. Right now was one of those times to be frightened. She touched his arm softly and yet, he still flinched as if it stung. He turned to face her, his red eyes blazing with hatred. She could tell that this was not passion, or sadness, or regret. This was pure anger.

"Put it down…" She said softly, so as not to anger him even further. She wouldn't tell him what to do, he hated that. He was his own boss and when people ordered him around, he took no liking to that whatsoever. He could handle himself, which was something he would always recite in his head. He was a man; loneliness was something he had dealt with all of his life.

Never breaking eye contact, he did as he was told and wrenched the axe from the wall and it slammed onto the floor. His eyes were beginning to look sunken, his skin was etched with something short of despise for everything that moved. He turned around and continued walking down the hallway, dragging the axe behind him like some crazed murderer, and reciting these words as follows:

"_Obey your Master. Your life burns faster. Obey your Master. Master of Puppets is pulling your strings."_

Claire kept her distance knowing that he either wanted it or needed it. Whichever one it happened to be, she wasn't going near him without something to defend herself with. Although Wesker was a super-human mastermind, that didn't mean that Claire couldn't overcome him in his state of weakness. She was sure that with one hearty slam to the head, Wesker would be out cold and as useless a shark on land.

Claire heard Wesker yell out in frustration as she looked up; he was proceeding to rip his axe from a Walker's head. He slammed the weapon into another as they flooded from a room on the left; she squashed her body against the wall so as not to reveal herself to them. Wesker ripped into more and more waking corpses and one by one they fell at his feet, victim of his axe. He wasn't going to take shit from anyone right now, let alone a bunch of undead freaks.

He was done.

Wesker looked about, his eyes flicked back and forth to a door that was closed and covered in blood. He could smell life in there, he could hear a beating heart pound in his ears, he could taste the very flesh of a living being.

"Albert…"

Wesker didn't listen or maybe he wasn't hearing her, she did suspect that he may lose his hearing…

He brought the axe above his head, the muscles in his back crushing together, with a wild, untamable swing; he struck the axe upon the doorknob, making it spark when metal slashed metal. There, from inside the door, was a scream so desperate that Claire thought it might break her very heart.

"Uncle Chris! Don't let it get me!"

Patrick. That was her baby! She ran over to where the door now lay on the ground, splintered into pieces. Inside, Chris and her son we huddled around a radio, static emulating from it.

"Chris!" Claire could not fathom her excitement or rather her relief. Patrick ran up to her, sobbing, and flung himself into mother's arms.

"What the hell were you doing, Wesker? You could have fucking killed us!" Chris yelled while pointing at the axe.

"He didn't know, Uncle Chris!" Patrick yelled, "He didn't know…"

Chris turned around to see Claire and looked over his shoulder at Wesker who was staring at him with those hollow eyes. "He could have killed us…" He mumbled under his breath.

Wesker didn't say a single word; he looked down at Patrick who almost cowered in his presence. He could tell that there was something wrong with his father, yet he did not know what. Claire explained to Chris how her and Wesker were headed to the roof to try and flag down help, Chris reluctantly agreed that it was a good idea and the group, although Wesker yet again said nothing, kept on the journey to the top of the hospital.

"Is he ok…?" Chris asked Claire in her ear, pointing at Wesker who was leading, dragging the bloody axe behind him.

Claire shook her head. "No, he's sick. When he got his ass kicked by Alex, it worsened it."

"So practically, the guy's been bleeding to death for the past few hours?"

Claire's eyes welled, "Sorta… I guess."

The group shuffled into a dark stairwell that would take them up the remaining floor of the hospital and onto the roof. Wesker swung the axe into his hands, clutching it until his knuckled brazed white. The blood still dripped form the edge, the blood still dripped from his wounds. The shirt he was wearing was useless, for it was soaked.

When he kicked open the door to the roof, the dim sun from the fading day stung their eyes and Wesker looked about, trying to gain his bearings. The roof was covered in small pebbles and there was a helipad for emergency fly-ins.

Chris started on his radio, "This is Agent Chris Redfield of the BSAA, NY Division. Do you copy?" Static only followed, menacing static that, to Wesker, sounded as if it was mocking him. "I repeat, this is Agent Chris Redfield—"

"You won't get anybody, Christopher," Wesker remarked, cutting him off. "There's no one left in this town. You know that just as well as I."

"It doesn't hurt to try, Wesker" He shot back.

Wesker smiled ferociously, "And when has trying _ever _gotten you _anywhere_? You always end up screwing yourself over."

Chris seethed and threw the radio on the ground, "Wesker? What the hell is your problem? Do you just love seeing people worry? Do you love seeing people break down because they have nowhere to go? You're fucking sick and don't you _ever _think I trusted you for a minute because I would _never._"

"Valid point," Wesker said flatly. "But it is _you_ who has lost faith, not I. I see it, hell, Christopher, I can feel it. Your slowly becoming insane because you can't stand the fact that this whole time you were kidding yourself."

Claire was about to intervene when someone, somewhere spoke up. "Now, now, let's not start another one of _those_."

Wesker turned around to confront his brother, the owner of that horrid voice. "Alex."

He smiled falsely in response to his name, "Albert."

He stood on the ledge of the roof, his eyes glowing in the very dark of the night that had just set. "I had this feeling I would find you here." He applauded him, "Yet I'm surprised you're still alive! I thought I had done it right."

"Obviously not," Wesker retorted.

Alex cracked his neck and then his knuckles, "Well then, I guess I'll just have to fix that" Before he was able to transmit right towards his brother, Alex heard a click against his head. Chris pulled back the hammer of his gun and bore his heavy brown eyes right into the side of Alex's head.

"I wouldn't." He said grimly.

Alex only found amusement in this and he chuckled. "You think, a mere mortal, are a match for me."

"Trust me," Chris said confidently. "I've faced things just like you."

Alex chuckled again, this time, more horrid than the last. "That is where you are wrong, Redfield." In one swift movement, Alex rammed his elbow into Chris' gut then delivered a strong kick to his collar bone; he could hear it break on impact. He flipped the larger man onto his back, crushing his neck with his shoe. "Would you like to try again?" He looked up at Wesker. "You leave my brother to me."

Wesker, again, showed no signs of being ready to fight, his hands were down and he was hunched over slightly due to the pain in his abdomen. Alex circled him like a predator stressing its wounded prey. Claire dragged Chris back to the corner they hid in, hoping that Alex wouldn't come after them next.

"Did he get me…?" Chris asked strenuously.

Claire nodded and smiled a bit, "Yeah, he got you."

Wesker remained rooted to the ground, never tearing his eyes off Alex who began preaching to him. "Do God's Pray?"

Wesker didn't respond to him. "I would if I were you," Alex said smugly. "Because you won't live to see another _day!_" And with a burst of speed that could rival light, Alex grabbed Wesker be the neck and slammed him into the ground. He picked him up by his shirt, and flung him into the door, denting it. "You are so weak."

Wesker shook this off, hoping that he would come up with something clever so he could get out of this. There were literally no escape routes… Although… he looked over at the edge of the building. If he could get Alex over there, he could very well shove him off and hoped he fell to his death.

Unlikely but it was well worth the attempt.

He rose from the ground, gravel in his wounds and hatred on his sleeve. As if they were thinking the same thoughts, and Wesker didn't doubt that, both men charged, throwing wicked punches. The fists collided with a sort of crack as their bones broke from an impact that could rival an atomic bomb. The locked hands and grappled, both of them almost equal in strength. Wesker shoved Alex into the ground with a roar and slammed his boot into his temple then his stomach. He went for another kick to the side when Alex grabbed his foot and flipped him onto his back. He reined over him, and brought down his shoe, crushing Wesker's ribs.

All of them.

Wesker screamed in pure agony. Claire winced and had to turn her eyes away from the fight as well as her son who watched the fight with the very look of terror on his face. Blood trickled out from his mouth and Wesker knew that one of his ribs must have punctured something to get him to bleed like that. He rolled over on his stomach, crawling away towards the ledge, unbeknownst to his brother.

"You are pathetic!" Alex told him while walking beside his crawling figure, "You have no idea to the power I have over you. There is so much you were blinded to and now, I almost pity your ridiculousness."

Wesker stood and the silence of him deafened all ears. "You are nothing." He said boldly. "Will be _nothing. _Will get _nowhere._ You are just as pathetic as me, Alex." Wesker laughed mockingly, spitting blood as he did so.

This is where he wanted him. The brothers were now a mere foot away from the ledge and this was Wesker's final show. "Come," He mocked. "Show me how _pathetic _I am!"

Alex seethed, he raged with so much might that Wesker could feel the very air around them heating. "You've been dying since the day you've been born!" Wesker yelled.

Alex ran into his brother, crushed his arms around his waist and his neck in an awkward headlock, Wesker kicked back and sent them teetering over the edge.

"Albert!" Claire ran over to the brothers who were just inches away from falling to their possible deaths. "Albert no!" She clutched the shirttails for a brief second… yet it was to no avail.

Wesker kicked his brother away from his as they began to free fall. Alex tried to snatch him back but they were both falling too fast to even fathom when they were going to land.

The Wesker's plummeted towards the very earth they sought to destroy.

**A/N: BLAAAAA Hey school is over so that means, more time to write! Stick around, yo!**


	27. Sharks In The Water

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE or any characters affiliated with CAPCOM.**

**I'm back, bro's. Hope you guys are having a good summer!**

_**Loyal Reader: It really doesn't matter anymore. But thank you for your very kind words :) They mean a lot to me. **_

_**Chris Coard: Ohhh I don't ever write things I'll regret. Trust me, everything will be ok… or will it?**_

_**Maleficmistress: It's ok! This chapter will be just as interesting and full of stuff. I know right? Chris man come on, you gotta face the fact that you're not a superhuman!**_

_**Ikisha: Thanks for the input! Stick around!**_

_**AngelInTheDark19: Don't worry, Wesker will be able to whoop on his little brother's ass soon enough. He just has to recover a bit, and revitalize, and then he'll be healthy as a horse! Thank you for all of your kind words including your brother's!**_

_**Deviliam: I thought we weren't talking anymore.**_

_**MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: Cliff hangers are my expertise. Well, you know Wesker's always thinking before he does something crazy but that was just a spark of insanity otherwise, Alex was gonna kill everybody up there! Who knows… maybe one of them will smash their skull open and end up dead! You just gotta read on!**_

_**Rasha The Dark Uchiha: Thank you! I love new people coming around to check out my story so thank you for your kind words; it's what keeps me going. **_

**Chapter 27: Sharks in the Water**

Wesker's body was racked with pain. His head throbbed and he could feel blood on his temple when he reached up to touch one of his many wounds. There was snow on the ground still, just like he had left it. Again, and he swore to whatever god was up there that he wasn't dry of blood yet, it speckled the blanket of white. The wind of the dead night was harsh in his ears and it made him wince. He didn't like that one bit. Every part of his body was aching horribly and he couldn't really grasp the reason why yet. When he opened his eyes, everything was blurry as if he was plunged underwater. Blinking did not suffice and neither did the failed attempt of lifting his hands to rub them. The only thing that he could note is that he was on his back, looking up at the starry night sky, or at least what he _thought _was the starry night sky, for his eyes were failing him.

Groaning when he attempted to sit up, Wesker made it onto his elbows and no further than that. He collapsed onto his back once more, defeated by his own body. His headache did not relent nor did the throbbing of his muscles. His eyes had adjusted somewhat but nowhere near enough to function properly.

XXXXX

Alex could see his brother's unmoving form about five feet away from him. There was blood surrounding where his head lay and he was twisted in a most unholy manner. His back looked as if it could potentially be broken, and his legs were spread eagle, one bent in a strange looking way. There was no way to determine if he was dead or not. Alex did not sense his heartbeat… maybe it was because it was too weak to hear. He could be dying and that was what he was ultimately going for. Paying his price of slight pain was nowhere near the satisfaction he would have if his brother had died in that ridiculous fall. Although, Alex would like to have had the final hand in his death, that way, Spencer would praise him even more for carrying out his duties in a most personal manner.

Either way, Albert Wesker would die.

Alex sat up, putting a palm to either temple to tame his oncoming headache. He then looked up from where they had fallen. He knew Albert had sacrificed himself for that woman. He smirked wickedly, planning on wandering back up there to finish them off when he was sure Albert was dead. He stalked over to his brother's motionless body, and loomed over him. Alex slid a knife from his belt and adjusted his loose tie. His jacket had been lost in the fall so he was now clad in his black undershirt and white tie while his black slacks and black shoes remained. Alex looked down again with the most scrutinizing look, and glanced at the knife that was hanging from his slender fingers. He rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and paced circles around his brother. Pondering on what he should do, or rather, on _how_ he should do it.

He moved around and straddled Wesker, crushing his knees into his sides. His brother let out the slightest whimper of pain and this only amused him further. He could hear his ribs cracking from the sheer force of his pin. Alex slid the knife along his neck softly so as not to slice him open there. Wesker's eyes did not open and this made him wonder why. Did he not want to watch himself being pinned and killed like an animal? Or rather could he not open his eyes because of pain? Whichever one it was, Alex no longer cared and brought the tip of his knife onto Wesker's chest. "They say you can feel death even though you're asleep…" he spoke to him lowly. "That is… if you _are _asleep. Either way, I no longer wish to watch you suffer here under this knife." Alex then lifted it over his head and watched his brother make no stir.

Before he even brought the knife down upon Wesker's awaiting form, blood spattered across his pale face. Alex frowned and slowly dropped the knife to look about. He felt a pool of warmth bloom from his chest and he reached up to touch it. With blood on his fingers, Alex leapt off his brother and turned around, trying to find the source. He winced a tad when he tried squeezing the bullet from his wound and it plopped into his palm with a small thud. He crushed the bullet in his hands and seethed with anger.

"Coward!" He screamed into the darkness. "You are a fool if you think you can hide from me!"

There was another pang in his chest as another bullet from nowhere struck him. "You think this is a game? Do you think that this act of hilarity will get me running away from you?" Alex ripped the bullet from his shoulder and flung it to the concrete.

He heard a noise behind him and he whipped around only to meet more darkness. Alleyways were shrouded in a light mist and streets with a dense fog. When it began to roll in closer and closer, Alex thought that he might be insane for everything around him seemed to move in on him. There were no more bullets, but rather silence to replace it all. Shadows drew his eyes from left to right to up and down and now noises from beyond the grave, literally.

A few Walkers began to stumble upon an empty road and head for the noises that he had been making while screaming into the nothingness. He could count three but was unsure if there would be anymore. Alex had little experience with the creature that they had called zombies. He did, however, know that they were stupid creatures who were slower than snails. The only attribute that allowed them to pinpoint their prey was their impeccable hearing. It was strange yet; Alex knew that they were also blind so the fact that their hearing was precise was actually of no surprise to him.

He tried for an escape route and deducted that he was in the middle of a four-way intersection. On every side, zombies moved in by the dozens. Hordes of them stalked ever so closer to him. He was their only source of living, breathing, walking flesh. They wanted every inch of him, they craved the meat between their rotting teeth and desired for it under their yellow fingernails as they scraped away at your skin and bone. The bullet hole was still leaking crimson and it began to stitch itself back together, laying skin of skin to heal over what was lost.

Alex growled in frustration and turned in a circle, trying to look for a way out. He looked over to his brother who was beginning to cough up blood and he then began to chuckle menacingly, "You're not gonna be able to escape them." Wesker said, wiping his bloody lip with the back of hand. "No matter how far you run, no matter how fast you get away… they'll always find you, like sharks after blood."

Alex's stomach dropped and he swallowed the lump in his throat, his brothers words rang true. This was the very first time Alex was unsure of his situation and he did not favor it one bit. "Shut up, you dog." He sneered at his brother.

Wesker stood on his weak legs, holding himself up with his hands on his knees. "Oh, you're afraid… aren't you?"

"Shut up!" He roared, "You have no right to say that I am frightened when it is you who teeters on the edge of death."

Wesker laughed and a cough rang after it, "Face it, Alex, you're afraid because you don't know how to get yourself out of this one. Spencer isn't here to save you this time."

Alex had just about enough of his brothers idiotic rambling and decided that he would shut him up once and for all. Spencer wanted to make his death personal; well he wasn't going to get that. Alex just wanted to rub that smug smile off Wesker's face and call it good. He stalked towards him, cracking his knuckles and neck, smiling wickedly, Alex grabbed his brother by the neck and lifted him from the ground. That smugness still remained and Wesker put up no fight whatsoever.

Suddenly, as if the fog had turned into smoke, a thick cloud of gray plume rose up from the ground, smothering Alex and Wesker. The brothers both coughed into sleeves and Alex dropped him the ground unceremoniously. "This isn't over yet, brother!" Alex screamed. "I will have your head on a stake!" With his vow and vendetta set, Alex Wesker belted into the darkness, wondering if he would _ever _be able to have some damn privacy so he could snuff his lousy brother out.

XXXXX

Wesker fell to his knees, too weak to stand and let the smoke smolder his lungs and those too gave in. Coughing did not help as he just needed to heave in more air than he let loose. A shadow loomed over him, someone in black. He looked up with watery eyes and shielded them as they shined a flashlight in his eyes. And then a hand reached down for his, Wesker looked at his possible savior confusedly. "What?" Said the figure in a female voice, "Not gonna take a favor from an old friend?"

When the smoke cleared, Wesker could see who it was.

Jill Valentine.

He chuckled with relief in his breath and accepted her hand. She heaved him up with all of her strength. "Can you walk?" She asked him cautiously.

Wesker winced as he rose to his full six foot four height. "I think so." Jill did not take his answer as an acceptable one and she slung one of his arms around her shoulder, and being much shorter than Wesker, he was forced to slump over as to not put pressure on Jill or his legs.

"Thank you," He said quietly and then followed up with what he was asking next, "How did you find me?"

Jill gave him a soft laugh as they hobbled about the dark streets. "Well I wasn't looking for _you_." She started, then adjusting her shoulders, "I was looking for Chris and Claire when I remembered that Kaya was still at the hospital. So that's where I was headed, and look who I find."

"Claire," Wesker shouted, he totally forgot about Claire! "I have to get back on top of that damn hospital."

Jill held him steady, "Hold on there, it's ok. I radioed Chris; he knows where to meet us."

Her words seemed to relax him but not enough for he looked behind his shoulder at the hospital that was now fading away in the fog.

**A/N: Hey guys, I'm gonna end this one right here. Sorry it's so short, I have a lot of stuff to do coming this week so the next chapter will probably be around early July but depending on where I end up, I might be able to fit one more into this month. Have a good one, bro's!**


	28. Throw Him To The Wolves

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

**Hey guys, I just wanted to let you in on some news, I am in the process of writing a very long Loki fic. It's harder than I anticipated but I will press on! Whether **_**SOM**_** gets updated or not is all up to how much time I put into **_**Terra Est Mollis (Earth is so Soft). **_**So if you're a Loki fan, look out for that! But in the meantime, enjoy CH 28 of Shadow of Me.**

_**Serial Experiments Kate: Hello there! Welcome to Shadow of Me! I hope you're enjoying it thoroughly and I also hope that you stick around!**_

_**Tomoko Takami: Hey! Welcome back! I missed you! **_

_**MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: I'm right there with you, not really into long fics unless they really hit home and are well written! I love seeing new longer Wesker/Claire fics pop up.**_

_**Naoko Suki: I MISSED YOU! I hope you're having a good time, relax, and take your time catching up! I know how busy you must be, being a mommy and all! Yep, Alex fears mere walkers! (To me) I think it's because he's never encountered them before and the fact that his brother was able to raise the dead and allow them to roam once more. To have THAT much power is what I think Alex also fears**_

_**Rasha The Dark Uchiha: I thought it would be nice to bring Jill in to save Wesker's ass.**_

"_**If they only understood, he'd give it all up if he only could."**_

**Chapter 28: Throw Him to the Wolves**

"What's the rush?" Wesker asked Jill who walked steadily in front of him while he limped not too far behind.

"We have to get back to the rendezvous point." She started, "If we don't get back in time, Chris, knowing him, will probably move on if we aren't there."

Wesker knew this to be true. As bull-headed as the man was, Chris probably _would _leave them behind to find somewhere safer. All the while, Wesker didn't know what to think of his unraveling situation. His wounds weren't healing, just as he suspected, and every step felt like a milestone. He also felt lethargic, as if there were million pound weights on his shoulders. Sometimes, and he wasn't entirely sure about this one, his eyes would falter and made the world look like it was being shaken by a giant. At other times, he would see dark shadows lurk about the corners of buildings and peer down at him through high windows. And when he would blink, they would have disappeared.

When he squeezed one of his wounds, blood would seep through his fingers, sparkling under the moon. Wincing audibly, Wesker slowed. "Can we stop for a moment?" He asked strenuously.

Jill halted, "Yeah, we should. You look bad." She approached him and took hold of his arm gently yet he flinched. "It's ok…" She told him. "I just wanna check these out; make sure they aren't too serious."

Wesker didn't take his eyes off where Jill was holding him, he felt ice cold. He felt hatred well up in his heart all because he couldn't look her in the eye. He had once betrayed her and now, it was her who was doing him a favor. Wesker felt sick knowing that she was able to be decent to him, to show some form of compassion. He knew that it probably pained her deep inside but she hid it away because she wasn't going to cower in his presence. It was something that Jill never did and never will. He always thought of her as a strong woman who was also independent. Obviously, Jill had escaped HQ and wondered the dead streets on her own. Wesker never doubted that Jill had what it took to survive for he taught her some of the things she knew today. Yet, growing up in a family like hers, she learned to take care of herself and not rely on others for help because, just like Wesker, the ones she loved always let her down. In some way or another, Jill and Wesker weren't very different. Both of them were left as children, unable to care for themselves so in turn, they had to learn on their own. Fending for themselves had become second nature and reasoning with others was short lived. Jill Valentine defended herself through family turmoil and came out in the end, victorious. Leading a good life, one that was worth living. Albert Wesker deemed himself an orphan when his mother died and father left. Yet, he climbed over that grief and used it to fuel his ambition.

They were two sides of the same coin even if either of them never admitted it.

XXXXX

Claire sucked in another breath and wiped her face with her sleeve. Chris paced and scratched his chin. Patrick pushed pebbles around with his foot close by his mother.

"We're gonna have to get back down to the lobby without getting _fucked_ by zombies." Chris remarked angrily. "You know this is his entire fault, Claire!"

"No it's not."

"You can deny it all you want but Wesker planted the seed and Alex fed off of that. What Wesker did in the past, Alex uses that for an advantage. There is no happy ending because there are two crazy motherfuckers running amok trying to kill each other!"

"Well I can't help what Albert has done in the past!"

Chris turned around, "You _could_ have though."

Claire didn't understand what her brother was getting at until his gaze slowly drifted to Patrick, who was paying to mind to the arguing adults. "Take it back…" She seethed.

"No."

"You have no idea what went on so you have _no _ground to stand on."

"You're right, I may not know what 'went on' between you and him, but what I do know is that you betrayed us. You took all of your sense and threw it away. Claire if you hadn't done what you did, these things wouldn't be happening."

Claire held her tongue and decided to mull over her brother's words. Wesker's empire was all built on lies. Lies and money. She added to that bucket of lies by going to him, by not fearing him. He sucked her in and she wasn't able to escape. And when he gave her that chance, she didn't take it because she _wanted _to be there. She wanted Wesker to appreciate her; she wanted him to idolize her because deep down, Claire was selfish. She wanted to feel that energy that everyone always talked about. Being in a 'serious' relationship with a man was never an option while she was juggling school, work, and Chris. So ultimately, Claire dug her own demise. She craved what he had given her so very often and she craved hearing him boast about her.

"Oh my god…" Claire breathed. "You're right."

"You bet your ass I am, Claire. You can't argue with me because this time, you're wrong." Chris said harshly. He huffed, "Let's go, we have to meet up with Jill."

Claire nodded and picked Kaya up; cradling her like she did when she was small. "Come on, Pat. It's time to go."

After some time, they made it down every flight and managed to avoid all but two zombies on their way down. When they opened up the main doors, the bodies that they were hoping to see weren't there. By the looks of it, Alex and Wesker had survived their fall. Claire sighed with utter relief but Chris mumbled something under his breath that Claire could only presume was a curse.

"There's a lot of blood," Chris remarked. "So if Wesker _did_ get away, I imaging he isn't getting very far."

Claire noted this and hoped that he was close enough. "Where did Jill say to meet?" Claire asked while adjusting her daughter.

"Clayton Court," Chris said quickly. "So let's go."

XXXXX

Hunger. Pure and absolute hunger. Wesker had never craved sustenance this harshly. He wanted to gnaw on his own hand if he didn't have any self control. His stomach growled audibly and Jill chuckled a bit in front of him.

Wesker smirked, "What's so funny, Valentine?"

Jill shook her head and flipped open her pack, "Do you want something to eat?"

Wesker's stomach answered for him and she tossed him a sandwich wrapped in foil. "Thanks." He responded softly.

"Don't mention it," Said Jill.

They walked a little more and Wesker disposed of the tin foil on the sidewalk, seeing that no one was going to arrest him for littering. The fog had relented and the sun tried its hardest to peek through the thick, gray clouds but to no avail. It was about 6am and the city was just as desolate as it was twelve hours ago. Dead bodies littered the streets, paper and trash billowed low to the ground when the wind would sweep, and broken glass scattered itself about the roads, just waiting for you to step on it. From time to time, animals would scurry away from the corner of your eye. Initially, animals were very good at surviving outbreaks. Unless it was airborne or their kind was bitten, animals usually just rode out the storm. Right where you left them.

It was something new to think about while Wesker walked. He saw domestic cats and dogs that trotted about for scraps, they looked at him and he looked at them. The majority of the animals were used to seeing people for they had lived with them all their lives. So when they came upon Wesker and Jill, they cast a glance, maybe they even stopped sometimes, but then they would scamper away like you were just the simple stranger in the neighborhood.

Then there were the animals that had escaped from zoos. To check them off the list, Wesker had already seen gazelle and lions. But he knew there were more, when he was lying half-dead on the sidewalk, he heard wolves howl in the distance. It struck a strange chord in his heart and he recalled memories of his childhood. Wolves were very common in Germany and they were his favorite growing up. When they bellowed their sorrowful songs his mother would tell him that they were looking for a lost loved one. That it was their only way of communicating with them, even if they were half was across the country. Then, every night, his mother would tuck him in and tell him, _"Albert, if you ever get lost, if you ever stray from finding your way to greatness, just follow the stars and listen for mommy. I'll be out there, waiting, singing to you in the night just like the wolves." _

Wesker swallowed the lump in his throat and rubbed his arm along his eye as he stopped a tear from dropping onto the pavement. His mother was the best part of growing up and when he lost her, he didn't see the light of life anymore. His father had snuffed that out as soon as he buried her in the ground. The drunken rage night after night dwindled Wesker's reality and vision of escaping that horrid place. His father had paid for what he had done but Nicholas Wesker's wrath would not end there.

Alex was his product of fear and now Wesker had to pay the ultimate price.

Defeat.

Once he thought about it more, his chances slimmed ever more. Alex was good. He was determined. He was ruthless. And he was out to get his.

Albert Wesker had this horrid idea of losing to his little brother. Leaving everybody he had behind. There was always this thought in the back of his mind that Alex would prevail and Claire would be subjected to a monster. Who would save her? It would defiantly not be Chris. He stood no chance against Alex.

All Wesker could do was wait. And he hated waiting.

After his deep insight, Jill spoke up and asked him if he needed a break in which he denied, stating that it would just eat away their time. She reluctantly agreed, knowing that he was weak and needed some rest. But Jill wouldn't argue with the man on a mission.

The least she could do was get him to shelter, get Rebecca to patch him up and move on to their real destination.

Eden.

Supposedly, there was a barricaded part of town about twenty miles off the coast that has built up a sort of sanctuary for survivors until help arrived. Billy had told her that it was something he heard on the radio emergency broadcast before all the lines went off air. He mentioned that it had bomb shelters, a hospital, doctors, food, and running water from the city. There were chances that this place existed and there was also a chance that it was gone already, run down by the dead. Jill weighed her options and decided to try. Trying, after all, never hurt anyone. The only thing that she would have to get around was Chris. He would probably assume that they were walking to their graves if they so even attempted to make it there. It was twenty miles. In retrospect, that was a lot considering that they had an unconscious eleven-year-old and a half dead tyrant. All the while, his twisted brother was on his trail with a horrible vendetta.

So, all Jill would have to do is convince Chris on the journey. Rebecca and Billy had already signed off and she was sure that Claire would want to get Kaya to safety as quick as possible. She wouldn't put up with Wesker if he decided to argue because as of late, a kitten could take the poor guy out.

So it had been settled right then and there, the group would head to Eden and hope that it wasn't a wasteland like the rest of this town.

The two were about a mile from Jill's base camp and just as she left it, there were a few Walkers surrounding the perimeter. None more than six but she knew more could hobble in at any moment. Trusting her instincts, she pulled her pistol from its holster and aimed. Jill had her silencer on from earlier when she had shot at Alex so noise wasn't a factor that she was worried about. The one that that she _was _worried about though was Wesker, he was still dripping blood from his deep wounds and the more he bled, the more prominent the smell would be. The Walker would come no doubt. Although they were initially stupid, they had a glorious sense of smell.

Jill took out the zombies without a problem and she turned around to Wesker leaning against a car, still visually in pain. She could see it in the way he moved and when it flashed in his eyes. He would shut them fiercely, trying to bite back all of the pain that wanted to surface so badly. It wanted to make him scream and writhe in pain. But Wesker would have none of it. Jill knew that he was raised strong, grew strong, lived strong, and will surly die strong. It was his nature and she would not question that.

"Base it only a mile away. Do you think you can make it?"

He only nodded, not making eye contact. The shirt that he was wearing was tattered badly and his skin was covered in a mix between dry and fresh blood. Dirt smeared some of his features as well including his face. His red eyes shown greatly against the dull colors and when he winced, his white teeth flashed like a tiger.

"Then let's get moving. Your blood will surly attract more."

And so he limped along with her request and followed back about seven feet, flicking his eyes left and right, looking about for more Walkers that he knew were lurking about. They could smell his blood and at one point in his life, he was sure they could smell fear.

And Wesker was afraid.

He was afraid that he wouldn't see Claire or his children again. He was afraid that they would succumb to the death that every other poor soul did. Like he always told himself, Death was an adversary that Wesker could not protect anybody from. He could not protect his mother, he could not protect William, he could barely protect himself, and now he could not protect Claire. She wasn't within arm's reach; she wasn't here to reassure him that he was capable of anything. Yet, he was not.

The soreness of his body built up, the soreness of his heart too. Cliché as it may sound, he could physically feel the pressure on his heart, when he thought about her, his gut wrenched and fell into the pit of his stomach.

And as the fog cleared from the remainder of the streets, as Jill's camp appeared in the distance, he could hear the wolves cry. He could hear them bellowing for him. They had lost him and he had lost them.

**A/N: Hooray for metaphors!** **Sorry this took so long… but it's good enough to end here! See ya bro's next time ;)**


	29. Hideaway

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

**So here we are again and back to only four reviewers. If you can't read up on this, I understand and I want you to take your time to get back and caught up. I'm not worried about how much publicity this has, I just want to finish it and that is exactly what I am going to do.**

_**MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: I'm glad you love it.**_

_**Tomoko Takami: Thank you! I just thought of that on the spot and it sounded great so I stuck with it :)**_

_**Chris Coard: Thanks!**_

_**Rasha the dark Uchiha: Don't worry about Claire. She knows what's right and wrong and so does Wesker. **_

**Chapter 29: Hideaway**

Sunrises were beautiful things. As subtle and ubiquitous as they were, they symbolized a new beginning. Rising up from what had broken you down, recovering from what sorrow that had hit you upside the head. It symbolized the slowness of life or perhaps that very day you lived in. The way it slowly inched above the horizon, the way it steadily showed its true colors. Impeccable, it made you speechless. When this world was in this very state, people didn't have the time to stop and slow down. Their only act was to escape. To rid themselves of this town.

Wesker slowed down.

Jill watched.

He welled.

She sucked in a breath.

The reflections of the sun barred against the glass panels of the highest buildings and tallest towers. Flecking a glitter-like radiance upon the streets and dew covered grass. Dark was the night, orange was the dawn, and yellow was the day. Paradise is what it looked like but that very word was not necessary now. Everything was a black hole of madness. Nobody was here, nobody was there. Animals littered the street; blood covered the concrete, and lost posters plastered on walls. There was a black and white vision. Either you saw one or the other.

"Let's get you inside." Jill said quietly.

XXXXX

Wesker screamed out in pain as Rebecca tried to extract fragments of cement, metal, and splinters from his body. It was a rough and painful process and she wasn't anywhere near down patching him up. She accounted thirty small cuts that she had disinfected, twelve large and gashing cuts that she had stitched away, and fourteen open and infested wounds that she was still cleaning out. There were, although no bullet wounds for he had not been shot at. The fall that he took, Jill described for her. Wesker was biting down on a pencil as he lay stomach down on a medical table that they had scrapped from the hospital. The deep gashes that he had acquired were mostly from a severe beating by Alex or from the fall that he took.

Also involving Alex.

"Ok, one more shard of metal stuck right up here in your shoulder and it's all over" Rebecca said soothingly. And not so soothingly did she plunge the tweezers in to recover this piece of shrapnel. Wesker yelped as she unceremoniously ripped it out. Dropping it into a bowl with the other pieces, she began to close up the wound.

"There," She said while preparing the needle, "All done."

Wesker spit out the pencil now turned to toothpick, "Thank god…" He muttered.

"Jesus this guy took a major beating didn't he?" Billy said walking in from the other wing. "Did he get fucked over by a tiger or somethin'?"

"Billy…" Rebecca patronized.

"For your information," Wesker started, "I fell off of a ten story hospital."

Billy's eyes widened slightly yet he still crossed his arms as if he unimpressed.

"And survived." Wesker added.

Jill looked down at him and her eyes told him everything that she didn't want to say out loud.

Were they safe?

No.

But could Jill and Wesker lie about it?

Yes.

Wesker would not consider him safe until he had Claire and the kids and after he killed Alex. Yet, that was easier said than done. This little hideaway wouldn't last forever and it was just a matter of time before the group would have to move on and discover somewhere new.

Somewhere they could keep the evil at bay.

**A/N: SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN OVER A MONTH! I'VE BEEN REALLLLLLLY BUSY BECAUSE I'M STARTING MY SENIOR YEAR AND ALL THIS OTHER BULLSHIT! Blarg, I love you guys and thank YOU for putting up with my bullshit. (and I'm really sorry that this is so short."**


	30. Mercy

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

**Oh hey guys… I'm late because I've very busy. I've started my senior year and people are shoving college shit down my throat and blab la bla… so bear with me! I love you guys!**

_**Rasha the dark Uchiha: Yes it does!**_

_**Bloody Raptor: Thank you!**_

_**MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: Don't worry, things will unfold and interesting events shall ensue.**_

_**Sundragon: …What?...**_

**Chapter 30: Mercy**

It was dark, darker than usual. In the night, the beasts came out; they roamed the streets like harbingers of death. Some were slow, some were swift, and yet all were dangerous. It was cold, cold enough for snow to fall again and it did. The white flakes drifted down from the sky slowly, taking all the time in the world. There was a thin layer of it that had already accumulated on the roads and grass, and you would wonder why the beasts were able to resist this cold. Wesker's breath was warped into a white plume and his fading red eyes scanned the city blocks. He was waiting for Claire; any sign of her caused him to flinch. Sometimes, he could have sworn he smelled her perfume, just a phantom of her laughter, or he would look up into the stars and hear her voice. It was hard to judge in the darkness for his eyes were beginning to fail him, in fact, every part of his system was beginning to fail him. Wesker had paid the ultimate price for facing Alex; he had been struck down like a fool, defeated amongst all mockery. He paid the ultimate price for coming home; giving up his life abroad and away from everyone he ever cared about. As soon as he left to find Claire, Wesker knew that he would be digging himself a grave that would eventually be too deep to climb from.

"Do you wanna come in for a bit and warm up?" Jill said from behind him, opening the door only slightly. Her voice startled him as she watched him flinch and whip around.

He looked at her and then behind his shoulder, "No," He said quietly. "I'm fine right here."

Jill bore her eyes into his, seeing the sadness behind them. She had known Wesker for over ten years and when they first met, Jill never doubted that there was something internally wrong with him. Ever since the day she introduced herself, Wesker's attitude was somewhat depressed. There was something that he wasn't telling them, and he had the right for it was his business. Whatever went on in his past, he had never really recovered from. She could see that. Jill wasn't stupid and neither was Wesker. There was something along Wesker's timeline that royally fucked him up, something that carved a huge chunk from his heart, and something that darkened his soul. He was never open with anybody, although, Jill thought, he might have been open to Claire but that was something she wasn't going to invade on. Jill knew that when Wesker met Claire, as cliché as it sounded, would never be the same. He fell in love, something that Jill thought not possible. His heart was swollen with an emotion that he perhaps hadn't felt in ages. His own emotional turmoil made Jill smile just a bit; it made her smile because of the strength that rose from a broken man. It made her smile when she thought of Claire and him together because she helped pick up his pieces.

XXXXX

Claire heard the wolves.

They were sort of beacons of hope; they showed each other the way when one was lost. Albert always told her that they were just looking out for each other, signaling like lights for ships. And in this baron cold, she listened to them sing.

"Where are they?" Patrick asked from next to her.

"Far away from here, don't worry baby." She responded while adjusting Kaya in her arms.

"Mom I'm hungry…" He said solemnly. Claire put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it lightly.

"I know you're hungry, Pat and so am I but we have to find dad and Jill first."

"You think he's still alive?"

"I know he is."

"Claire!" Chris called from ahead, "Claire I think I found it!" Chris pointed out and about a mile away; there was a small structure that looked like a bomb shelter with three separate wings. Yet it was surrounded by a few Walkers that limped along looking for a meal. "We have to get around them cause I'm running low on ammo and the odds aren't really in our favor at the moment." Chris said.

"Patrick, stay close," Claire asked. "Don't worry, we're almost there."

Chris led the group around the perimeter of the shelter, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. They shuffled around bushes and trees, trying their damndest to keep quiet. It was when the Walkers began to shuffle away from the shelter did Chris take his chance. "Wait here," he said softly. "I'll go up and see if they're still here…"

"What if they aren't?" Claire demanded quietly.

There was a struggle in Chris' eyes, something that told Claire that he didn't have a plan B. "We keep looking." Chris gripped his sister's shoulder tightly. "It's gonna be ok, Claire. I promise."

He stood up and proceeded ahead, gun pointed forward. His eyes shifted quickly from left to right, making sure that he wasn't being blindsided by those sick, twisted beasts. There was less than one-hundred yards before he reached the front of the shelter but he began to hear the all too familiar shuffling, like it was a burden to carry one's self about. Chris turned around swiftly and pointed his pistol in the direction of four limping zombies that were approaching him with boney outstretched arms. He weighed his options: There were four of them, one of him. Although, he had a gun and some knives there was the risk of the sound of shots attracting more of them. Chris backed up slowly towards the structure and _they _were closing in quicker than he would have preferred. He then felt something, hot on the back of his neck, puffing out like a steady breeze with a stench like death. Chris turned, looking over his shoulder first. There were a group of them, at least ten strong.

"Fuck."

Chris really had no choice but to fire and save his ass. As he began to line up his first shot to kill, the bloody head of a fire axe plummeted down upon the head of the nearest Walker, splitting the skull as if it were an apple. It crumpled to the ground and the axe ripped from the flesh with a sickening slurp. Chris' eyes met with that of red.

"Wesker." He said quietly. The man was heaving heavily; he looked exhausted, worn, and bloody. Everything about him was wrong; the way he walked, the way he heaved the axe in his pale hands.

"No time for pleasantries, Christopher. We have some _awful_ company."

Chris nodded and began to cap off shots into the Walkers that were too close for comfort as Wesker cut down those that were slower and missing limbs. As Chris reloaded, he watched Wesker grind the axe into the neck of one and sever the head. The dislodged part kept on chomping, snapping its teeth like a crocodile. Wesker crushed his boot into the skull, splashing the brains across the pavement and moved on to his next gruesome kill.

When the Walkers were no more, silence fell. There were onlookers. Jill, Rebecca, Billy, and Barry stood at the door, bewildered at the men's work. They managed to take out at least twenty hostiles with one gun and an axe. Wesker fell to one knee and heaved in as much air as his lungs would allow. Rebecca helped him to his feet, whispering something in his ear that made him look towards the outer perimeter of the compound. There, in the slight fog that had accumulated stood his family. Claire held onto Kaya like a small child and Patrick stood at her side, reaching almost to her elbow. Chris looked at Wesker and then to Claire, he could feel the tension in the air. He wanted to say something; anything but it was much too thick to cut.

Rebecca led Wesker inside and shut the door behind her and moments later, you could hear his agonizing screams as she exhausted the pain from his body. Rebecca had to rip put more shrapnel that they had found this morning but Wesker insisted that he wait outside for Claire.

Chris signaled to his sister and she began the trek over. Whence she arrived Barry took Patrick and then Kaya from her arms and brought her inside to see Rebecca.

"Do you think she'll come out of it?" Jill asked.

Claire looked choked up and she rubbed her face, "I hope so…" she stifled a small laugh which was twisted with sadness. "That's all I can do now, is hope. Hope that if there _is _a god up there, he'll give my little girl mercy."


	31. Your Love Means Everything

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

**Hey guys! Thanks to those who favorite, add, and review! You guys keep this going!**

_**MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: Thanks for your kind words! You're the best!**_

_**Bloody Raptor: Yeah lol he's a trooper!**_

_**Tomoko Takami: Ah, don't worry about it. Take your time :)**_

**Chapter 31: Your Love means Everything**

"_**And at once I knew I was not magnificent."**_

The inside of the base was cold, everyone had to wrap themselves in blankets until Barry and Billy could figure out the heating circulation. They only had one generator for use and one for backup in case of an emergency. The men just couldn't figure the damn thing out. Claire hadn't seen Wesker yet. Maybe it was because she didn't want to. Last time, he had this feral look in his eye. One that told her that it wasn't him, that there was something possessing him to act in such a way. Claire heard him scream from down the halls as Rebecca preformed makeshift surgery on him. They had no medication save for the few prescription drugs that Claire had salvaged from the hospital and even then, none of them could help Wesker now. She knew he was in pain. Mental and physical pain. Physical being that of his cuts, gashes, open and festering wounds; his muscles ached and his head swam. There was nothing that could relieve the pain. His mental state was even worse. He had been defeated, brutally beaten down in his prime. His destroyer was after him, slowly stalking behind him, waiting for a moment when he would fall down to his knees.

Alex was a conniving adversary that knew just what made Albert Wesker tick.

Claire wrapped her son tighter in the blanket and smiled faintly at him. "Do you want me to keep going?" She asked him.

Patrick nodded and picked up the book from the floor. He handed her his father's tattered copy of _The Great Gatsby_. The one book that man found utmost peace and comfort in, he would find his answers within it, try to reconcile the past with it. For the past, just like Gatsby, was the one thing Wesker dwelled on the most even if he never admitted to it.

"_I wouldn't ask too much of her," I ventured. "You can't repeat the past."_

"_Can't repeat the past?" he cried incredulously. "Why of course you can!"_

_He looked around him wildly, as if the past were lurking here in the shadow of his house, just out of reach of his hand._

"_I'm going to fix everything just the way it was before," he said, nodding determinedly. "She'll see."_

_He talked a lot about the past, and I gathered that he wanted to recover something, some idea of himself perhaps, that had gone into loving Daisy. His life had been confused and disordered since then, but if he could once return to a certain starting place and go over it all slowly, he could find out what that thing was… _

Claire looked down; Patrick was asleep now, cuddling his pale face into the blanket, blonde hair tousled from days of travel. He reminded her so much of Wesker. The way he stood up for what he believed in, fought with his words and if that didn't work, fought with his fists. Blood would remark itself upon his knuckles and gashes upon his lip, and he would only take this as an initiation. Her boy was becoming a man faster than she could count. She tried to tell herself one time not to blink for one day, all of this loveliness would disappear. It was inevitable. Everything was. In this day and age, Claire had begun to realize that her life was just sick fate. Even if she tried her damndest to avoid it or change it, in the end it always turned out pretty bad. Her parents died and left her, Chris left her in his attempt to serve the country, and Raccoon City blew up in her face, literally. Steve let her down, Leon wasn't there to rescue her, and Wesker twisted things around like she was his little carnival. And yet, she would admit, that one, well two, good things came from her turmoil. Her children. They were the light, they were the reason Claire didn't give up after Wesker left. Her life changed, years of smoothing out that road, and it finally settled down. She had accepted her fate, told herself that she was done running. Until now. Now she was running away from her past. It had finally caught up to her and it was a savage beast.

Claire set the book down on the floor again and sighed. There was nothing left to do now but sleep. She would admit that she was exhausted. There were times when her eyes would shift in and out and she would have to run her hands over them or splash herself with snow or water. The base wasn't made for housing individuals. It was made to keep out the Walkers roaming outside. Jill and Barry had set up cots for Chris, herself, and Patrick. Kaya and Wesker slept in the sick ward, while Barry, Rebecca, Jill, and Billy stayed in sleeping bags in a single room, taking shifts for watch out.

Claire wanted to make sure that Kaya was ok before she decided to get to bed and as she made her way down to the ward, she heard the wolves again. They sounded closer this time and their sorrowful songs sent shivers down her spine. They were not threatening, they were not being territorial, they were just calling for the lost. They were searching just like everyone else in the shelter. She crossed the threshold of the ward and saw Wesker sleeping, bandaged up like a victim of war. There were stitches all about his chest, shoulders, arms, and back. Cuts that weren't deep enough for stitches were drying up, caked with blood. His eyes looked weak even in sleep. They were heavy and dark circles began to form there. Underneath his fingernails were dried with blood and yet, this wreck of a man still managed to breathe right.

Claire approached his bedside and a lump formed in her throat. She tried her best to swallow it but to no avail. Her eyes welled up with tears and she grabbed his calloused hand softly, running her thumb over his skin-stripped knuckles. He looked like he had gone to hell and back… and all for her. She felt guilty. Claire felt as if she was the cause of his pain and suffering. He risked sickness for her, he fought off his demons for her, he went to prison for her, he admitted to crimes for her, hell, he even jumped off a building for _her._ It was all because he loved Claire. Albert Wesker would do anything for _her._ It was his nature, honestly it was. He was protective and protective meant going to unbelievable lengths to ensure her safety. Right now, Wesker was playing chicken with Death. Claire was never accustomed to such attention and love and she had been enlightened when he professed to her. Genuinely. He looked her directly in the eye and said three words that became hard to say. I and love and you.

She squeezed his hand and sat down in the chair next to his bed. Her soft sobbing woke him up and he looked at her, dull red eyes filled with something that Claire could only say was sadness.

"You're alive," Claire said quietly.

"Hardly." He responded softly.

Claire's eyes let loose a few more tears and they streaked down her paling face.

"Don't cry, dearheart." He asked sadly. "Please don't cry."

Claire held his tighter and sobbed quietly. "Why do you do these things for me, Albert?" She asked him, letting go of his hand.

"Because I love you." Wesker responded.

She laughed lightly, "I know there's much more to it than that."

"No," said he. "I do the things I do because I love you, dearheart… and I know you love me too. There is no one else on this earth that I would fall down on my hand and knees for. I look brightly upon what we have because we've been able to make it last. Eleven years ago, I promised you that I would one day come back. Eleven years I kept that promise. I walked through fire and thorns to get here. I've taken many a beating to see you standing, breathing, smiling. I took that leap so I could be sure that you would never be burdened with my pain. I did it so you would not be stalked by my past." Wesker cupped her cheek in his calloused hand, wiping the tear from her face with his thumb. "Your love means everything to me, Claire."

Claire choked on her sob and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Wesker sat up in his bed, wincing from the pain. The bandages on his torso and shoulder shifted with his position and fresh blood seeped from under it. Claire cupped his face in her hands and kissed him, placing her forehead on his own. "I love you, Albert."

XXXXX

The sun had finally risen over New York City. The beasts hid away in the shadows, waiting for darkness to set once again. That light was a beacon; it was a symbol of renewal. This was the day they would move, head to that Eden place that Jill always talked about. Claire was on board. She really had no other choice. She could either stay here, wait for death to creep into bed with her or take her chances and go for it. There wasn't a one hundred percent guarantee that anything was there but it was well worth the shot. She needed to get Kaya medical attention as soon as possible and the faster they got out of there, the faster things would look up. Wesker was able to walk and therefore able to travel with the group. No one was being left behind whether or not they wanted to go.

The only person in the group that rejected this idea was Chris. He was worried that the group wouldn't make it, that they were too weak to move on at the time. But really, they didn't have a choice. The dead were moving in closer and closer as the hours waned by. Eventually, they would be upon them and it would be impossible to escape from here. This was logic that Chris denied. His idea of staying was that by then, they would have already been able to safely fortify the base and keep the dead at bay. But he was ignorant. He wasn't thinking in the broader spectrum. The group would run out of supplies, food, and water. With eight mouths to feed, it was only a matter of time before their supply ran low and then to none. Every point that they would bring up, Chris would shut down. He would come up with some ridiculous explanation as to why they should stay. Barry tried to talk him out of this nonsense but to no avail. They couldn't get Chris to budge.

He wasn't going anywhere.

Maybe, Claire though, maybe it was because he was afraid. He was scared of failure. His biggest fears would come true if he couldn't protect this group. Granted they had Barry, Jill, and Billy as good shots but the true pain was the two injured. Well, Kaya wasn't injured rather she was more than that. She was still out cold in her comma. Chris couldn't look at her, lying there with such stillness. It wasn't like his niece at all. She was always bouncing off the walls, excitement was her only emotion. Happiness spread through her like wildfire whenever something would occur. Her brother on the other hand, Patrick, was a somber boy whose simplicity pleased that of himself and others. He was unlike any other boy… come to think of it… both of Claire's children were very different from others. It wasn't because their father was a super-human, living a thousand miles away, never being able to be there… it was _because_ of their father. They grew strong without his bodily form being there; rather they grew strong with his spirit living within them.

Claire sighed and wrapped her jacket tighter around her. It was her turn for watch duty. She sat outside in a lawn chair with a hunting rifle in her lap, watching the horizon for hostiles. There was a light snow drifting down, and the world was silent. She had grown accustomed to this silence. Claire's recognition of city sounds was no more as she took in the purity of nothingness. There were empty cars, houses, and streets. She wondered where all of the people had gone. If they had gotten out of the city in time or if they had been eaten alive, or converted into those beasts of blame. The door opened and Wesker stepped out in a fresh shirt. He was still wearing his black pants but they had not really been affected.

"Are you cold?" He asked. It was practically a rhetorical question but Wesker didn't know what else to say. Claire nodded without looking at him and he then handed her a pair of gloves.

"Do you feel better?" She asked. This was small talk. Neither of them had anything better to talk about so this was as best as they would get.

Wesker clamped his hands together and blew warmth into them, "A little," he said gruffly. "I'm still quite sore but I think I'll manage."

"Do you really think it's out there?" Claire asked him softly.

The gears in Wesker's head started turning. He could never lie to Claire but at this point time, where everything was strictly based on the answers that one would be given, it was hard to go against his heart.

"Do you want me to tell you the truth…?" Wesker said quietly.

Claire looked up at him with a tear in her blue eyes. "No." She said with a sob. He reached down, grabbing her hand gently and lifted her from the chair. The gun clattered to the ground and Wesker pulled Claire tight to his chest, burying his nose into her neck.

"I believe that there is _something _out there…" He said. "But, dearheart, I just don't know what."

Claire clutched his shirt in fists, tears staining his shoulder. She stood on her tip toes, as Wesker was always too tall for his own good. His familiar scent played her nose as it did eleven years ago. She wanted to wade in these feelings for the rest of her life. The gold days when it was them alone.

Nevermore.

"Everything will be ok," Wesker whispered in her ear. "I promise."

**A/N: I CAN'T DO ANYTHING ELSE TONIGHT! MY BACK IS KILLING MEEEEEEE.**


	32. Hope Can Be A Cruel Thing

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

**Hello everybody! So sorry I've been missing! I hope you all got my PM and if you didn't, you can inbox me on my profile. So you might want to go back and read the last chapter for it's been a long while since I've updated.**

**_Pinkalmonds: Thank you for all the reviews! I really missed you, girl _**

**_DarkCrimsonPhantom21: No problem, Albert! You take you're time :)_**

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**_MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: THANKS! _**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 32: Hope Can Be A Cruel Thing<span>**

In the cold, all things fell still and silent. All things sheltered down and stayed in with shut eyes. Creatures huddled around each other, humans, if there were any left alive here, hung about in groups. Like everyone else around here, this shamble of a group that hunkered down in a makeshift bomb shelter, shivered in the cold. Their bones like ice, their skin like frost when they touched.

If they moved, they would have to be utterly quiet so as not to stir those who sought their flesh. Although the sun rode high, dark gray clouds blotted it out like a sheet of black paper. Snow drifted down, plated itself onto surfaces like a sheen of crystal-like anomalies. They were fragile things.

When they finally decided that they would head to Eden, Chris was practically forced into the idea for he would not be left behind. The group mainly relied on Chris and Billy for defense... Wesker was completely unable to work with himself. He needed rest, much of it. He needed sustenance, meat, water, and warmth for that matter. As his body was breaking down, every minute would feel like hours and ever hour felt like years. His skin was pale, almost as white as the snow. His rubicund eyes still held their own illumination against all of the discoloration of the world, but they were fading, beginning to stale out. When everything was said and done, Alex had taken away more than Wesker's dignity. He took away his strength, he ripped his muscles from his joints, his bones from their sockets. Alex ruined him. Wesker walked with a limp, sometimes he would have bite his lip as the pain was unbearable. Thankfully, the cold froze most of his open wounds and disinfected them in a sort of natural kind of way.

"Claire..." He whispered calmly to her, placing his hand on her shoulder.

She turned to face him, her eyes a pale blue, skin tight on her slender face, hair swishing about in the slight wind. "Yeah," She replied quietly, looking up at him.

"Let me carry her," Wesker gestured to his daughter in Claire's arms. He gave her a small smile that used to charm this woman years ago.

Claire hesitated for a moment. She trusted him, she really did. But he was weak, he could barely keep himself on his own feet. She shifted Kaya in her arms and passed her gently to him. Wesker placed his arms under her and lifted his sweet daughter to his chest. "She'll be alright, dearheart." He reassured her. "I promise." He winked at her and she smiled, slapping him on the shoulder in a light, playful way.

"Don't drop her." Claire remarked.

Wesker gave her a look from the corner of his eye and with a smirk said, "Who do you think I am?" With a chuckle said he.

In all reality, Claire really didn't know Wesker that well anymore. As a matter of fact, she didn't really know him at all. She knew the basic Albert Wesker 101 but she never really thought to delve too deep into him. He was mysterious and Claire thought that he just might want to keep it that way. She accepted this as a fact of life. Her most beloved protector, her friend when she was in need, her lover, and her fighter, knew more about her than she would ever know of him. Keeping it that way may or may not be in their best interest, but Claire didn't want to stress over something that really was none of her business unless Wesker made it her business.

Chris halted the group by holding up the universal signal for stop.

A hand.

A hand raised in the air with the sternness of iron. There was something in the air, a feeling of uneasiness. A feeling that put a shiver down spines. The group heard the moaning, the dreaded sound of a killer.

It was neither man nor beast.

It was a foul creature with foul intentions. Its rotting skin plagued the air that was needed to breath. Its yellow nails clawed at the flesh and clawed at the nightmares. Its spoiled mouth gnawing at all things that moved. Its eyes, cold and lifeless, searching for something that it could never see. The boney figures, shackled by their broken limbs or no limbs, scattered this area like flies. They limped about, sniffing the air with their skin-stripped noses. They froze like statues when they smelled something satisfactory, froze when they heard something unusual. These two attributes were now key to them. The Walkers needed these senses otherwise they would never find food. They hung around, forever starving. They could not die unless bludgeoned, shot, or stabbed to death.

In the head of course.

Once they found their prey, they swarm like bees to their pestering victim. It was inevitable. Once one of them found out, they all found out.

Chris knelt on the ground and the rest of the group followed his wise movement. He crouched behind a few trashcans that were turned over, spilling their contents all over the walkways. The group huddled around, watching the Walkers scuffle about, bumping into each other while exchanging grunts that probably meant nothing. If these things _did _communicate, it was likely an impassive, unintelligent form of speaking that wasn't really speaking at all.

"I count a good twenty Walkers out there..." Chris said quietly. He ran his hand across his oncoming beard. "We have to take them out or walk around them but that will slow us down and we'll lose daylight quick."

Chris looked over to Wesker, "Do you have it in you to help out?" He said slightly smug-like.

"You know I'd never pass up an opportunity to help you, Christopher." He said sarcastically.

Chris ignored that and turned to Barry and Billy. "No guns." He said sternly. "Guns will undoubtedly attract more and we have enough on our plates already."

The men nodded and gathered their blunt weapons of choice.

"I can help..." Patrick said softly to no one in particular.

Claire, Wesker, and Chris all sternly stated 'No' at once.

"But... But I'm fast! I can get around them quick!" The boy pleaded.

"Patrick Redfeild," Claire started, "I am your mother and I said no. It is _way _too dangerous."

The boy then looked to his father, hoping that he would disagree with his mother and allow him to fight the Walkers.

Wesker shook his head. "Your mother's right, Patrick. It's much too dangerous."

Patrick slumped his shoulder, let down by adults again. But is was just a fact that he had to face. He was only eleven. Patrick internally corrected himself: Eleven going on twelve. He was getting older and getting older meant getting stronger. How could he get stronger if he couldn't fight the things that frightened him?

Claire could feel her sons internal conflict. It was her sixth sense. He boy was becoming a man. His fragile life was flashing before her eyes and everyday, it got less and less fragile and more rough around the edges. He was becoming a strong, faithful, boy that would one day grow up and protect those who fought for him in the past and ones that would come along in the future.

Chris had finally prepared his plan of attack. They would go in from the sides, cut down the flank of Walkers that harshly blocked their path to freedom. Once they began to horde, they would climb atop a bus that had been turned over. From there, they would strike them down. One by one until none remained. Hard work but hard work that would pay off soon after.

Barry, Billy, Chris, and Wesker all gathered their weapons and began to creep around the side of the street. The Walkers were shuffling around in a square, a four-way intersection that was blocked out by overturned cars and street signs. They really had nowhere to escape, the men, but that also gave them an advantage. If worse had come to worse and a gun had to be used, then Walkers from other streets could not come through. They would be blocked out from the cars that littered the street, creating a sort of ring around the humans and the Walkers.

Chris carried his bloodied metal baseball bat.

Barry shifted his iron fire poker.

Billy had the classic wooden baseball bat.

Wesker heaved his fire axe.

They were armed and 100% dangerous.

Killers.

Slaughterers.

Slayers of Beasts.

They began to circle around the enemy, moving in inch by inch, trying to subdue any sounds that their feet were making. Avoiding kicking stones and squashing scraps of metal. Chris looked to his partners and nodded once, sweat beading down his forehead. Finally, after what seemed to be a period of hesitation on their part, Chris took the first crack. He smashed his bat into the side of a Walker's head, crushing the temple and brains spattered onto his face. The others sank their weapons into the grimy heads of the walking dead. The slick sounds of blood and guts poured into their ears like a cacophony of horrid music. Billy kicked one in the chest, knocking it down onto its back. He then crushed the head open with his bat, spilling its contents onto the pavement.

Barry drove the piece of iron right through the eye socket of a hostile that was getting a little too close for comfort. It protruded from the back of its skull, making a snapping sound that was like a thick branch being splintered in half. He heaved the iron from the Walker's dreadfully ugly face and moved on to his next.

Wesker, although being the weakest of the four at the moment, managed to cleave the beasts in bits. His axe reined down a sharp terror on those who hobbled towards him. It split skulls neatly down the middle, mouths falling open and teeth clattering to the ground. It was a sicking sight, seeing four men rip and tear into things that were once their kin. But like the famous excuse. 'It had to be done'. They were no longer that of the human race. They were beasts of burden now, clambering along the streets that were now blank with life.

Once the group narrowed down at least ten of the Walkers, they scaled the bus one at a time. Billy was first, he then grabbed Barry's hand, helping him onto the top. Wesker was next, using the pieces of metal that were sticking out from every which way as footholds. Barry clasped his large hand onto Wesker's and gave him one swift pull. They all head Wesker's shoulder blade pop and shift.

He shouted a profanity and grasped his shoulder, knuckles turning white. That was one of his worse wounds. It was shifted after he hit the ground from his fall. It constantly decided to dislocate itself at the most inconvenient times.

"Are you ok, sir?" Barry asked out of concern. He then caught himself regarding Wesker as his boss again. Back in the day, during their RPD days, everyone respected Wesker. Called him 'Sir', or most commonly, 'Captain'. It was the proper thing to do and proper is what Wesker always wanted in his team. Barry, no matter what transpired in the past and no matter what would transpire in the future, would _always _respect Wesker for his bravery and his leadership. He would have never been a captain of a rescue mission team if he hadn't worked for it. Although his role was strategically placed due to Umbrella's ruse, Wesker still rose to the challenge and worked his ass off to play the part like a champ. And in the midst of all that, he truly became a captain.

Wesker waved him off, telling him that he was fine.

Barry bent down to grab Chris and his massive hand curled around Chris' heaving him onto the bus. The rest of the Walkers were beginning to realize what was going on and decided to head for that warm meat that wouldn't stop moving. As the Walkers tried their damnedest to climb up the sides of the bus, the men had unsheathed their knives, plunging them into the skulls of the filthy grime that was a Walker. Once they were all killed off, their arms and faces covered in blood, knives shining only slightly in the dim sun, chests heaving for much needed air, they rested. They had managed to clear out the entire area without any casualties. They beckoned to the others that stayed behind and watched.

Once they were all in a group again, they headed north to a neighborhood that they would stay the night in. When they arrived, they would have to look for more food, water, and supplies. They were running low and needed to stop as soon as possible. Claire walked next to Wesker, asking him if he was alright. He didn't respond. Claire didn't expect him to. She was just so damned worried for him all the time. She knew that it annoyed him... it annoyed him because he had never known that someone could worry about _him _until he met _her_. No one ever really cared about his well being. No one ever questioned it. Everyone that Wesker had ever met always had to assume that he was just 'alright' all the time.

With Claire, it was a totally different story. She was used to concerning herself with other people because lots of other people needed to hear how amazing they were or how lovely they are. Claire concerned herself with Wesker because she cared about how he felt and how he reacted to things. If she didn't care, she wouldn't bother to love him at all.

And Claire loved him dearly.

Barry took over carrying Kaya for the rest of the trip to the suburb that they had circled on the map. It would take about a half an hour to get out there and they also had to consider any casualties that they might run into. Claire appreciated the gesture. Her arms were getting weak. Kaya wasn't heavy but after carrying her for such a long time, Claire felt her arms turn to jelly. She deserved a break.

And so the group shuffled on though the cold, through the dimness of the day. Their breathing kept silent, their steps kept cautious. They hoped that at any moment, the suburb would appear over the horizon. Allow them some reverence and peace.

But hope can be a cruel thing.

**A/N: OMFG GUYS I'M SO SORRY. I OUGHT TO THROW MYSELF OFF A BRIDGE FOR BEING SO BEHIND. BRB GOING TO DO THAT RIGHT NOW.**


	33. The Devil Gave Us A Crooked Start

Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.

Sup guys! Happy New Year! I hope this coming year is filled with joy and things to come for you all.

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MaleficMistress: Thanks! I missed hearing from you and I apologize for such a lateness on my part. My laptop broke and it took me forever to get a new one! Anyways, yes! Patrick is very much like his good ol' dad!

MOONLIGHT SHADOWN HUNTRESS: Thanks a lot!

Chapter 33: The Devil Gave Us A Crooked Start

"You can't love everyone; it is ridiculous to think you can. If you love everyone and everything you lose your natural powers of selection and wind up being a pretty poor judge of character and quality. If anything is used too freely, it loses its true meaning."

-Anton LaVey

Humans can't always see the brighter side of things. They are told that 'the grass is always greener on the other side'. However, some don't realize that the grass on the other side could be just the same shade of a horrid color. They could hop that fence and realize that there is no difference whatsoever. Humans wish to live their lives in a state of ignorance and bliss because they are afraid of what lies on the other side of that so-called 'ignorance' and 'bliss'.

Wesker limped on, wondering if he ever believed in the greener grass. He hoped that there was something like it, something to reassure him. His body was weak, his life was hanging by a thread, his daughters life was in a risky balance, and somewhere out there, lurking in the shadow of Wesker's humiliating wake, stood the man that sought to close it all up for good. Although Alex was just Spencer's hound, after the old man had somehow recovered from his gaping chest wound, Alex's role was set in motion. Spencer would utilize the fact that the Wesker boys were stale on each other and he would use that to his sick advantage. Telling Alex that he could 'bring his father back', weaving him lies that were so unbelievably ridiculous, that Alex just had to find some truth in the old mans words.

So Spencer, in his deteriorating form, wished malice and pain upon Wesker. He wanted his head on a plate and he wanted it now. Alex was just a pawn that Spencer was using under the guise of 'good intentions'. He promised Alex the thrill of a lifetime for the small compensation of his brothers beating heart crushed into the ground. However, Alex went a little overboard when he decided that the only way to cause panic and chaos was to re-release the T-Virus in the surrounding area. Little did he know that his plan had one major setback...

Zombies.

Creatures that Alex was very unfamiliar with. He had never worked with T enough to personally witness the horrors that it caused, he mostly just read about them in reports that several researchers had written including his brother. Alex believed in one simple truth: If what frightens you one day crawls into bed with you, sleep. Sleep until you realize that one day, you'll wake up next to the monster you once sought to never know.

However, Alex wasn't sleeping away his demons, he was chasing them towards Wesker. He was rallying them up and sending them on rampages.

"I can see the neighborhood just up ahead, guys. Only a mile left and we'll rest there." Chris said loudly so the scattered group could hear.

Barry walked right next to Chris in the front, leading the group to their destination. Jill, Rebecca, and Billy stayed in the middle, guns at the ready, scanning the area for threats. Wesker, Claire, and Patrick hung in the back. Barry was still carrying Kaya. Patrick kicked stones with his worn shoes and occasionally, whistled a tune that didn't seem to last very long. Claire walked in a straight line, her blue eyes locked on the horizon, hoping that she would see the roofs of houses. Whether or not there were people there did not concern her. Wesker needed rest and he needed it as soon as possible. The quicker they got there, the quicker he would recover and they could move on. Wesker, with his hands shoved in his pockets, sauntered close to Claire, trying his hardest not to fall over. His breathing became much more labored since he fought of those Walkers back in the intersection and his larger cuts began bleeding again from the strain. Rebecca was out of gauze for she had used in all on him. He would just have to deal with the soaked bandages that he had now until they could find something else to suit it.

"Dad..." Patrick said softly. "Where were you... this whole time? Where did you go after you left mom?"

Wesker looked down at his son that resembled him drastically. His blue eyes shown innocently, blonde hair in a tousle, strong jaw clenched. He supposed that if he was going to talk to his son about the 'why's' he might as well do it now.

"I went everywhere." Wesker started. "The day I left, I got on a plane and headed out to London to work. Then when things went south there, I decided to go to Prague."

"Where's that?" The boy asked simply.

"Czech Republic."

"And where's that?"

Wesker chuckled, "Europe." He looked down and placed his hand on the boys shoulder. "Surly you know where that is?"

Patrick giggled and grabbed his fathers wrist, spinning himself around to face him. "Yeah I do. We learned about it in school."

Wesker dropped his hand to his side, "And how do you like school?"

Patrick sighed and shrugged. "It's ok... I guess."

Wesker rose a blonde eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'you guess'?"

"I get bullied a lot and when I get bullied I fight."

"And when you fight, your mother doesn't like it." Wesker said flatly.

Patrick shrugged again, "Yeah... she said I remind her of you when I do."

"Why?"

"Because I fight for what I believe in and I fight for the people I love."

"That sounds like me," Wesker chuckled. Yet, then he sighed. "Patrick, sometimes you have to do the right thing. I'm not saying that fighting is never the answer but what I'm saying is that when you're all worn out and you have nothing more to give, that is when you rise up and claim victory. One day, when you're older, you'll understand why certain people do certain things. You'll understand what your mother and I had. You'll understand why I did the things I did. When that day comes, I want you to be proud of who you are. I want you to look back on these days and be able to say that you survived. No matter where you are in twenty or so years, look back on what I'm saying to you right at this very moment and remember who you are. You are my son."

Claire grabbed Wesker's hand and smiled at him. It was about time he fathered his kids, taught them a lesson that they could benefit from. Claire was doing it for eleven years and it was a relief to see her son listen to his father as if he had been a part of his entire life. She saw Patrick laughing with Wesker, talking, and best of all, smiling. Patrick rarely smiled these days but, then again, who did?

Chris halted the group and adjusted his holster. "We need to eat but we can't fire off a gun." He said somberly. "Any ideas?" Chris was straight to the point. The group needed food. They had some water bottles but they would need to find more soon.

Wesker stepped up, "I can hunt." He said.

"With what?" Chris crossed his arms. Claire rolled her eyes at her brother. He always underestimated people's potential.

Wesker held his arms forward and stretched his large and bloodstained hands. "I've done it before."

"Then let's go, Rambo." Chris scoffed.

"Not here." Wesker stated. "You need to get further out. You head to the neighborhood, I'll stay back and win dinner."

"I don't think so," Chris started harshly. "Nobody strays from the group, especially you."

"Then what do you want us to do, Chris?" Claire questioned. "Starve?"

"He can barely keep himself up!"

"I think he'll be just fine," Barry intervened.

Chris pondered for a brief moment, "Fine go. But you better not come back empty-handed."

XXXXX

Wesker took a deep breath, letting in as much air as his lungs would accept. It felt good to breath his own air for once. He had been crowded around the others, stale air hanging about. But today, on this early morning, it was fresh and crisp, like an ice cold glass of water. His nose let in the smell of the outdoors, and for a moment, he thought that there could be something beyond this hell. He just hoped that what everyone was wishing for was true. He hoped that further along this road, there was a civilization of survivors. People who would ride out the storm with them. Wesker used to brush off the saying "Safety in numbers" but nowadays, he would admit that he could no longer survive on his own. He needed the support of a doctor, a sharp-shooter, an ex-convict, a master thief, an old soul, a lover of the light, and the children she bore. They had to keep the Devil at bay. They had to lift him off his feet, tell him that everything was going to be alright.

Wesker pushed all of those thoughts from his head, cleared it, and then took in another pap of air. He could smell his prey and that was one thing that hadn't failed him yet. He could still smell their relaxation turn to fear, heart from steady to racing. There was a small herd of white tale deer about 50 yards away. They were grazing calmly in a patch of grass just beyond a scrap of bodies and burning cars. He could taste their flesh on his tongue, feel their bones in his hands. Wesker crept with the utmost stillness, taking shelter behind cars and fallen trees, crawling on his belly or kneeling low. The deer were in his path, flicking their ears back and forth, tails swishing about. He could almost reach out and grab one if he wanted, but this had to be executed perfectly or the group wouldn't eat today.

He was hiding behind a large fallen tree that was still covered in brown leaves. Wesker crouched, his muscles constricting like a deadly snake, his shoulders were squared, arms and hands flexed and itched. He turned to his right ever-so-slightly, digging his boots into the ground for traction.

His target was locked.

There was a large buck. Judging by its rack, Wesker would have to say at least an eight point. He was fat, enough meat on him to feed the group for at least three days. He put one large hand on the trunk of the tree, squeezing it until his knuckles turned white. His right leg was next, supporting his weight in a deadly crouch that would spring him forward like a tiger. With one last, shaky breath, Wesker lunged forward, breaking the branches that were under him. The deer scattered frantically, and Wesker target was on the run. No longer to keep up his inhuman speed, he just had to run for it. His legs burned from the strain but he was sure that it would be worth it. He was right behind the bounding animal and managed to latch one hand onto its skin, grabbing it like the scruff of a cat, he then reached out his other arm and grabbed the buck by one of its antlers. Wesker dragged the massive animal down to the ground and wrapped his hand around its snout and nose at the same time. It was on its side, bucking furiously and baying from its closed mouth. Wesker's bloodlust set in finally. He smothered the deers head into the dirt, its legs still flailing about. He lifted his arm above him and brought it down in a deadly strike to its throat. His fingers dug into the soft flesh, blood pooling from the holes that he was making. Wesker wrapped his hand around the spine of the animal and snapped it.

All had become silent once more.

XXXXX

The group, minus Wesker, had settled in a small ranch house that was the least damaged. It's windows were already boarded up and it seemed as if the person or persons living here had to leave because they were evacuated. The house was warm inside, blankets in the closets, water in the fridge, canned food in the pantry. Right now, this was as good as it was going to get. There were two couches in the living room. That was were Barry and Chris would sleep, keeping an eye on things overnight. There were four bedrooms down the hall, Rebecca and Billy would share one, Jill would have one to herself, the kids would share another, and Claire and Wesker would have the last one at the end. This would suffice but only for a while, soon they would have to move on again and try to find this Eden place. If that didn't exist anymore, then they would head to the edge of town and hope that they were moving out survivors. The group knew that only this large section of the city was closed off and quarantined. Everything else beyond those walls was normal. People living out their every day lives in peace.

Chris and Barry put a sign out for Wesker when he came back. It was an old S.T.A.R.S. trick that they used to do on missions. One of the members would leave a piece of their clothing tied to the lowest tree branch of the nearest tree. If the cloth was on the lowest branch, it was safe to come however, if the cloth was anything higher, than it was dangerous and you would have to look for the next sign. In this case, they tied an old dish cloth to the lowest branch on the nearest tree and hoped that he remembered what it meant.

The front door was boarded up and Billy found a way into the house by the old cellar door. That lead down into a small tunnel-like hallway into the basement. The flood windows were boarded up as well. Whoever lived here was thinking straight. The last person through the cellar door shoved a thick metal rod through the handles.

Claire looked through a crack in the board and watched the street for Wesker. Patrick and Kaya were sleeping in the bedroom. Everything here was surprisingly clean still. There was a small layer of dust but it wasn't really noticeable. This disaster had only been going on for about 2 weeks now so it wasn't that surprising to Claire that the house was still tidy as if the family who once lived here only left for a couple of hours. She sighed and hope that he was ok. She really did worry about him. She found herself worrying about him more and more these days. He wasn't right anymore, his body was denying him. If you asked anyone else, save for a few, everyone would say that he got what was coming to him. This was far from true. Wesker was a good man, he was just portrayed to be a bad guy. Claire admitted that he had done some questionable things but it seemed that everyone question just about everything that he did and that wasn't necessary. She knew that he had bad blood with certain individuals but that blood would just have to settle. This wasn't the time nor place to hold grudges over heads.

"There he is!" Claire yelled. Chris came to the window and peered through the crack.

Chris smiled, "Well I'll be damned."

Claire watched him drag a massive buck through the streets, its neck wrapped with his shirt, blood soaking it. He dragged it on some rope that he probably found somewhere and its fur littered the ground around it. He stopped in front of the house, eyeing it for a second. Claire saw him smile slightly, and shake his head chuckling. Barry opened the cellar door and waved him down.

"I see you still use some of the old tricks," Wesker said thoughtfully, swinging the buck around for Barry to grab its back legs.

"Yeah well," the older man started, "I learned from the best."

They hung the deer in the rafters of the basement and he left the skinning and gutting to the other men. He walked upstairs, shirtless and covered in blood he was in the company of the women who all laughed and sarcastically told him to have some decency. Claire didn't care what he looked like, she flung herself into his arms like she hadn't seen him in days. She buried her face into his neck, breathing in his cologne that somehow still remained. Claire just assumed that it what he smelled like all the time regardless of what he was doing. He smelled like spice or something along those lines, deep and ravishing, there was a hint of something like pine perhaps.

"I love you," She whispered in his ear.

"I love you too, Claire." He said back.

XXXXX

The group ate well that night. Barry made steaks from the kill and saved some for jerky. He reinvented the small fireplace in the living room into a grill. He took the grates from the oven and lined them in the fireplace, placing the cuts on top of the flame. Everyone went right to bed after dinner. The beds and couches were clean, like a hotel sort of. Claire kissed her son goodnight and shut the door. The hallway lights were left on but dimmed. She returned to her room, flopping down onto the bed effortlessly. She was exhausted, mentally and physically.

Everyone was.

It was enough to go through this once. Everyone here, save for her children, had gone through hell like this. Ecliptic Express, Arklay Mansion, Raccoon City, Rockfort... it seemed unfair to have to do this again. It seemed as if the world was mocking them. This was the only thing they would even be able to see. Death, carnage, loss... it seemed as if the world didn't want them to forget the nightmares.

She rolled over, snuggling into Wesker. He held her there like he used to. One arm under his head and the other running his fingers down her arm. He kissed her on the forehead and then looked her in the eye. "Claire." He started.

"Yes?"

"I cannot even begin to say how sorry I am. I don't think I ever apologized for my atrocities."

Claire pondered. "I never asked you to, Albert."

"You don't have to ask me I simply have to tell you."

"Then tell me," She asked quietly.

"What I did, all those years ago, you put behind you because you are strong. You forgave yourself and you forgave me. That takes the utmost bravery. You tried your best and although you struggled, you managed. If you really think about it, Claire, you never really needed me at all."

Claire choked back, "Yes I do."

Wesker smiled, "You don't. You think that you do but you don't."

"Albert I don't understand" Claire responded sadly.

Wesker chuckled. "You went eleven years without me. Granted you thought about me, did you not? But you never broke down pleading to whomever to bring me back."

And then Claire finally realized what he was saying. She survived. Just like he said she would. Claire fought off a storm without him. She thought that when he left her, that was that. After she found out she was pregnant, Claire thought that she would need Wesker to be there for her. But he never was. So what did she do? Survive. Claire never particularly liked being saved and this time, it was Wesker who needed saving.

"You see, Calire?" Wesker brushed a hair from her face. "You are just as capable as anyone else. In fact, you are more capable. Don't ever tell yourself that you can't do something without the help of others. And why?"

"Begin quote, 'Because I would be lying to myself and that is the worst thing anybody can ever do.' end quote" Claire said with a laugh. "Albert Wesker."

"Precisely."

Wesker curled his arms around her, his protectiveness welling within him again. This is where he belonged, truly. Even though he was stuck here, in this hell that he was trying to run from, he was stuck here with the doctor, the sharp-shooter, the ex-convict, the master thief, the old soul, the lover of the light, and the children she bore.

They were all here for one single reason. One thing that would always bring them together and make them stronger...

The Devil gave them all a crooked start.

A/N: 9 pages for you, my lovelinesses! Happy New Year! I know I'm a little late but it's all about the occasion! I hope your 2013 is filled with utmost joy and prosperity. (by the way, ignore any of my silly errors, I'm using pages and it doesn't really recognize grammar thingys.)


	34. Germany, July 1980

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

**Hey guys! I hope you're all enjoying the new year as much as I am! If you're not, keep that head up because bright and better things are headed your way. I promise! I love you all!**

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><p><strong><em>Bloody Raptor: Thanks!<em>**

**_AngelInTheDark19: Thank you SO SO SO SO SO much! I love all of your kind words! Tell your brother thank you as well and that I hope he gets better soon! Happy New Year!_**

**_Budda The Carhop: Thank you so much and welcome to Shadow of Me! I hope you stick around, I love new reviewers!_**

**_MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: Thank you so much! You're making me blush!_**

**_Tomoko Takami: Thanks for taking the time to catch up!_**

**_Sungragon: Thank you! Wesker is one of my favorite things to write. A lot of people have told me that my Wesker is unlike any other and that makes me feel accomplished. Alex was something that came to me while I was playing Lost in a Nightmare in RE5 because there are journal entries written by him talking about Africa and Spencer. No one really knows who he is other than he was another child used in the Wesker project and that a lot of the Resident Evil community think he'll be ten times worse than Wesker on the crazy scale. We'll just have to wait and see what Capcom does!_**

**Chapter 34: Germany, July 1980**

Along the streets of the suburbs, paper scuttled about the breeze. The sun was creeping over the hills of the country and the buildings of the city. It was nothing beautiful anymore. No one dared to stop and watch like they normally would have. The small conjugation of people that gathered in this house were the only ones left.

There was nobody else.

Everyone was either dead or evacuated.

It had only been two weeks since the outbreak and in less than 48 hours, everything had gone to hell. It was Raccoon City all over again for most of the group. Other than Billy and Rebecca, however, they been through that hellish train ride and Umbrella Training Facility. This was no place for life anymore. It wasn't allowed here. The dead owned this city.

As harsh as it was to hear, everyone, even Patrick, needed to suck it up. This was reality and it wasn't getting any easier. What was now their world would remain their world until they could get to safety and safety sounded a little far fetched for them.

Wesker checked his watch that was smeared in dried blood. He scraped some off with his fingernail and watched the second hand move with a soft tick. He eyed his watch closer and noticed the dullness in its silver coloring. It was old. In fact, it was his fathers. It was the only thing that Wesker had left of his father. Not that he wanted anything of the man anyways, it was just something to remind him of the past that he should have let go long before. It was hard to toss this watch. Even though it was Nicholas', the personal value of it didn't go down to Wesker. It became more and more certain everyday that his hardships were caused by his father and if he was going to recall any lesson that he had taught him, it would be time. The fact that time was the most crucial, precious, and fragile on this earth made that mans lesson burn into Wesker's mind. He would never forget that his father wasted his time like a fool and that Wesker would never waste his.

_GERMANY, JULY 1980_

_The blue and red lights that swam into Albert's vision were giving him a headache. There were police everywhere. Walking around his house, inspecting every last inch. His mother was dead. She was raped and murdered. Or that's what his father told him. He had to believe his father because father was always right. Albert wiped his tear stained eyes with the back of his hand and sucked in a breath._

_Her body was found about a block away from their house. Mangled and bloody. She had been raped and stabbed several times. There were black and blue bruises already forming on her wrists and throat. The police hand't found the attacker yet. They were scouring the houses and sheds, cars, and trees. Places where Albert guessed that police might find him._

_His father was yelling at an officer. Something that Albert knew was not what you should do. Nicholas taught him plenty of lessons. One of them was not to back talk an officer of the law. Always regard them as "Yes, sir." "No, Sir." "Yes, Ma'am." "No, Ma'am." Nicholas seemed to know a lot. Albert wondered why he wasn't a teacher._

_The boy tried to keep his mind off his mother. She was his favorite person in the world. She loved him unlike anything else. She raised him to be a respectable young man. It was really unfortunate that she would never see her son grow up to be big and strong like she told him he would become._

_Finally, after what seemed like hours, they carted her body away covered in a white sheet. There were fresh bloodstains upon it where her wounds were still open and bleeding harshly. Albert closed his eyes and turned away, grabbing his fathers hand and squeezing._

_"Quit your crying, son." His father demanded. "No tears."_

_"But she's dead, dad!" Albert screamed._

_"Do not you raise your voice at me, young man. I said no tears!" Nicholas ripped his hand from his son, refusing to show him any affection. Yet, that's all the boy needed right now. Someone to hold him and tell him that everything was ok. That his mother was in a better place now._

_There was no such person._

_"Come on," Nicholas said harshly, pulling on his sons shirt collar. "We have to go down to the police station."_

_Albert trotted along side his fathers wide gait. Trying to keep up with him was hard. Nicholas was six foot three. He had longs legs and arms, a strong jaw, pointed nose, blue eyes cold as ice, and blonde hair. He was like any other German. Tall and intimidating. His accent was thick. Nicholas was from Eastern Germany, most of the population there had thicker, more "english" sounding German accents. They were a rough people. World War II, in which Nicholas served in as an American Ally, took a toll on his health. He had been shot three times, resulting in four cracked ribs when the bullet hit him good. His eyes were cold, never seeming to break the emotion of sternness. Albert was to grow up just like him, or so his father said. He would serve in the military, learn how to shoot a gun, fight off enemies, and kill. There was no other way to grow up according to Nicholas. Albert was his son and he was to be raised by his standards._

_The police questioned Nicholas for a good two hours. His alibi was solid for he was at work when the murder had happened. Nicholas worked at Umbrella. Head of Research Development and Head of Security. Nicholas invented and invested Umbrella's private Military the U.B.C.S._

_Albert didn't know if the police were going to ask him questions. He was scared. He sat in the chiefs office with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He wasn't shivering out of cold but rather out of fear. What would he do without his mom? Who would hold him when he cried? Who would kiss his cuts and bruises? Who would bake him a cake on his birthday? Who would watch him grow up and then make a photo album? Albert thought about her in his time of waiting. He wanted her to show up the door and kiss him on the cheek, hugging him tight. He wanted her to sing him to sleep and tuck him in before she left._

_"Albert," Nicholas started when he walked into the office. "Detective Kretschmann needs to talk to you." He grabbed his sons wrist and pulled the blanket from his shoulders, sending him in the other room. From the two-way glass, Nicholas could watch his son being easily questioned by the detective._

_Albert answered every question truthfully, just like he was taught to. He simply told the detective that he was at home with his babysitter for the night. His father was at work and so was his mother._

_"Father usually doesn't work the nightshift but for some reason, he just had to tonight."_

_"Does your mother usually work the nightshift?"_

_Albert nodded, "She didn't like it but it was all she could do."_

_Detective Kretschmann asked him a few more simple questions and let him go. Albert walked with his father back to the car and waited while the heat warmed it up. His blue button was stained with tears and blood from grabbing his fathers hand. When the police came to the door with her body, Nicholas ran his hands down her face, saying something under his breath. He looked sad but Albert couldn't really tell._

_Father and son sat in silence in the car. It was awkward. Albert didn't particularly get along with his father. It was distantly mutual to say the least. Nicholas grasped the steering wheel tightly. He was frustrated about something. Something that Albert could not deduct. No matter how hard the boy tried, he couldn't pick out his fathers emotions, he just couldn't. He was stern, cold, and hated conversation._

_"Dad..." Albert started. "Can we go home now?" He asked quietly, almost too quiet to hear._

_Nicholas sighed deeply and started the car. They drove in silence, watching the lights of houses and buildings go by in a flash. Everything was now a blur. It was hard for Albert to distinguish what was real and what was the fantasy that he had begun creating._

_When they were home, the police crossing tape was littered on the ground and Nicholas ignored it. He looked as if he had no desire to do anything. Albert was pained in a strange way. He couldn't tell if his father was feeling sorrow or if he was just being impassive like always. Albert stood in the living room, trying to recollect thoughts of his mother. She would sit here on nights when Nicholas would work during the day, and she would tell Albert about his grandpa, her father. He served in World War I and ended up being an American War Hero. She told him of his bravery and his courage. He ran into gunfire, ran into fire, and ran into death. He was reckless, the true American Solider._

_Victoria Samuels was born and raised in New York City. She and her dad lived on a tight budget after her mother died of cancer. After the denunciation of WWI, Daniel, her father, enlisted. Victoria would have been about ten and her father was drafted soon after he enlisted. She stayed with the neighbors that Daniel had been friends with ever since they moved into the suburbs. She stayed with them until he came back at the end of the war. He was decorated and proud. He served his time and he served it well. Daniel went on to own his own auto shop and then watched the rest of his daughters life flash before his eyes. When Victoria was eighteen, she met Nicholas when he was on a business trip to America for Umbrella. They were planning on expanding and New York was the first place they thought of. Victoria worked in a diner when she met him._

_Nicholas swept her off her feet. He was handsome, rich, charming, and smarter than all hell. He was twenty-two when they met and they fell in love immediately. Victoria wrote her father a note and told him that she was running away with her lover to Germany where she would spend the remainder of her days. She wrote him to leave in peace and good health. Love, Victoria._

_She never heard from her father again._

_Albert sat down on the rug in front of the fireplace that wasn't burning. He pulled his knees up to his chin and buried his face there. He wanted to cry but his father would hear him and punish him. So he simply sat and pondered on whether or not he should run away, kill himself, or spend the rest of his life here in Berlin. There was nothing left for him... life wasn't life without his mother._

_"Albert..." Nicholas said softly from behind him. "I know what you're thinking over there, boy."_

_"No you don't."_

_Nicholas chuckled at sat next to his son on the rug in front of the fireplace. "You miss her already."_

_The boy nodded._

_"So do I, Albert. You have to understand that I loved your mother more than anything. You and her I care about. Now I don't have her anymore and neither do you. We'll both have to deal with it." Nicholas lifted Albert's chin up to face him, his sky blue eyes on the verge of tears. "Together."_

_"Promise that you'll never love another girl like you loved mom?"_

_There was a short pause of silence and Albert thought for a moment that his father wouldn't keep that promise to him. "I promise, Albert. But time is a silly thing, son. Maybe after time, I'll find another woman but I promise to you that I will never love her like I loved your mother. Time, Albert, is the most precious thing on this earth. Do you understand? It is not to be trifled with."_

_NEW YORK CITY, JANUARY 2012_

Wesker cringed at the thought of his father. He rolled around and wrapped his arms around Claire who made some muffled sounds into the sheets. Wesker couldn't think of his mother without getting emotional and getting emotional led him to do unspeakable things. As of now, the last thing he wanted to think about what that night in 1980.

Right now, he wanted to sleep. Lie here next to Claire Redfield and sleep. He was content. Unable to change his state for it was the only one he desired to be in. He was in love and he knew it. It was about time too. It took much too long for Wesker to confess to her about it. To him, it was an alien emotion. After his mother died he really only defaulted to one emotion. Hatred. Yet, in this early frosted morning. Albert Wesker couldn't bring himself to hate anymore. All of that hate must have been harbored on by Alex. It was a freeing feeling.

If he let it happen, Wesker wouldn't give a damn anymore. He would shut out the fact that he was helpless. He would shut out the fact that he was being hunted by his deranged brother. He would shut out the fact that he was dying.

Yet it was all too real.

He was helpless.

He was being hunted by his deranged brother.

He was dying.

As of late, there was no way to stop any of it. So he would just have to lie here and listen to the sound of his lovers breathing. Wondering that if he closed his eyes, would he wake up in the morning?

A/N Did you guys know that Wesker is 6 foot and 7 inches? Sorry for the filler I have plenty of other things to write on! If you're interested, within the next week a short should be up called "Summertime Sadness". Check it out when it's ready!


	35. High End Of The Low

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

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><p><strong>Hey guys! I'm taking some time to write because it's one of the only things that can get my mind off of my real world. I execute my feelings through telling a story, it's the only way I know how! So if the next few chapters seem really sob-sob and hurtful, that's just me. That's how I'm feeling lately and it sometimes gets projected through my characters and the way their feelings are portrayed. So if you feel like somethings kind of "off" when you read new chapters, that's because something is "off" in my life and I'm trying to handle it as best I can! Love you all!<strong>

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><p><strong><em>Budda The Carhop: Thank you!<em>**

**_Bloody Raptor: Shanks!_**

**_MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: Thank you so much! I'm trying my best to update when I can!_**

**_Sundragon: Thank you for all of your positive words! TERROR LURKS IN THE NIGHT! Love it!_**

**Chapter 35: High End of the Low**

All of the cold had finally receded into a slight chill. It was late January and although spring wasn't as close, the warm airs from the ocean tumbled around. The trees were still naked and the grass was still dull green, the skies were still gray, and the life was still gone. The houses on the block were all a neutral color. Browns, yellows, tans, off-blue... they all looked the same too. It was that kind of neighborhood. The ranch-style houses that had big yards and short driveways, a tree in the front yard and a fenced in backyard.

The deer that Wesker took down a few days ago was doing the group well. They ate two times a day and in minute proportions in order to save the meat. They soon discovered that whoever was living in this house, had prepared for disaster. They didn't have any guns or weapons, rather they had non-perishable foods, bottled water, blankets, and a large medical kit. It had only been about three weeks since the outbreak, the group managed to scavenge some extra food from nearby gas stations and convenient stores however, most of them had already been picked apart. It surprised Wesker how quickly everyone packed up and left. It to him, it felt routine. He had preformed this many times. Moving about from place to place, packing up and abandoning something that you worked hard on and only to see it all go to waste. He pitied those that were caught up in the storm, those who had fallen victim to T. It was a dog-eat-dog world now. In fact, it always was. There was no changing human nature. Wesker proved that even after death, even after you've become a lifeless, walking sack of flesh, humans still fought for survival. Eating each other was one of the many ways zombies proved to be somewhat animalistic.

The house that they resided in was heavily fortified. It was safe enough to stay for another two weeks or so, perhaps a month if they pushed the envelope. Everyone was doing just fine. Chris, Barry, Billy, and Wesker worked out shifts for night and day. During the day, Barry and Billy would watch from the roof and every night, Chris and Wesker would watch. They propped a ladder up against the back of the house. Barry found it in the shed when he was looking for tools that might help them out later. The shed that belonged to the house carried standard workbench tools, screwdrivers, wrenches, a drill, some hammers, so on so forth. Barry packed some tools away that seemed useful to him. Chris' plan was to get ahold of a car or two and drive to Eden, if they could find it. Supposedly, it was out in the country. Farther north in the state. They certainly wouldn't be walking the whole way there so Chris' goal was to scavenge some cars to make the trek.

It was quiet. For most of the day, everyone would get some well needed rest. They would tell stories, mull over life and the situation they were in, count supplies, or just sit. Wesker spent most of his time sitting and thinking. He devised plans that he would eventually shut down. The only thing he could think about was Alex. He was waiting. He wouldn't come to him, he would have Wesker do that himself. Alex was conniving, Wesker had to give him that. He had a strategy that wouldn't fail. If it did, he would start from scratch until he had his brothers head on a stake. Wesker was also thinking of Spencer. It surprised him to hear that he was alive and yet, he also expected something of the likes. Spencer was a smart, cunning man. He had plans to backup his plans and plans to backup his backup plans. Spencer was cautious. He never took lightly on a situation that wasn't controlled by him. In all his years of knowing Spencer, Wesker always knew that their relationship would soon come to a bitter end. Spencer raised Wesker as if he was his own. He treated him with respect that Wesker's own father had never given to him and he taught him how to be strong and respectable. Nicholas was merely a figure, there to take a spot at father.

Nicholas Wesker raised his son to be a killer.

Ozwell E. Spencer raised his experiment to be a prodigy.

A feeling in Wesker's gut told him to be weary of that man. He had trusted him, however, and Wesker deemed Spencer a trustworthy man. He put his faith in him and he shaved that away little by little. Wesker thought himself a fool after he found out what Spencer's true intentions were. He thought himself weak in the presence of a god. Spencer was at the top of the food chain and he had made Wesker his prey.

Alex was merely his hunting dog.

Claire approached Wesker from behind and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey," She said quietly. "Are you ok?"

This was like Claire. To be concerned for him. When he and Claire began, it somewhat bothered Wesker that someone was caring for him. It felt like an insult when they were. Wesker grew up with little of it and to have been given it by a woman whom he had great feelings for, it almost seemed like a sin.

Wesker turned his head to face her and grinned, "Sure." He said calmly.

And this was like Wesker. To shut down any concern. He hadn't been used to it. It was folly to him. After being in Claire's company, Wesker learned that even if he wasn't physically showing any emotional discomfort, he was certainly hiding it under his thick skin. And Claire could see it.

Easily.

In all his years of being an emotional train wreak of hatred, collectiveness, and connivence, it dawned on him that maybe he wasn't as good of hiding his feelings as he thought he was. Claire Redfield sniffed him out like he was an open book. She saw him for what he truly was:

A man.

She recognized that even though he was 'infected' and no longer human, he was still a living being with a beating heart. She called him out and he answered to her in a way that she could never imagine. Albert Wesker opened up his mind to the reality of his fading tyranny. He didn't have to play those cards anymore. He didn't have to prop himself up like a mannequin and play puppet to Spencer.

In this very moment, in fact, in every moment, Wesker was free.

XXXXX

Night had fallen.

Once again it had shrouded through the streets like a layer of something vile. Night brought out the monsters. They crawled out from under beds, came from their closets, and sauntered through the darkness as if they owned it.

It was Wesker's turn for watch tonight. He perched upon the roof, eyes peeled for creatures of sin. The stars twinkled perfectly in the sky and the full moon radiated an angelic light. It was peaceful. Cold, but peaceful. He wrapped a black peacoat that he found in the bedroom closet, tighter around his thinning frame. He thought about a lot of things while he sat up on the roof. He thought about Kaya, he thought about Alex, he thought about Claire, and he thought about himself.

Kaya wasn't here anymore. Wesker thought that she would come out of it but his worst fears turned even more sour. She was gone. Caught up in a darkness that she would forever be forced to run about in. Wesker couldn't even begin to think about how frightened she must be. Forced to live a nightmare she's long since due to wake from. However, he wasn't giving up on her. She was strong, the little of his daughter that he knew was tough but no cookie.

Alex lurked. He toyed with Wesker in such a patronizing way. His brother was unforgiving in that department. Although Alex was younger he was most certainly not weaker. It might have been because Wesker was no longer in his prime but even then, Alex had something sinister up his sleeve.

Claire. If the time was right and if the world wasn't a boiling hellhole, then Wesker would get down on bended knee. He knew from the start that as soon as he laid his rubicund eyes on her, the she was his. After all these years, one woman still loved one man. It was unconditional. The very thought of Claire Redfield made his heart swim like a hurricane, made his head flush like a wave of heat, and his emotion rise up like a welling tide.

There was a sound behind him but Wesker ignored it. Even after all of his loss, all of his suffering, he still acquired his sense of surrounding. He could feel your energy like a tidal wave, smell your essence like a dog, and he practically touch the very heat coming from your body.

Chris stood behind him smoking a cigarette. They hadn't had any time to talk about the current events. Maybe it was because neither of them wanted to accept the truth or perhaps neither of them wanted to admit that they were scared. The two men were silent. It was deafening the way they held still, breath caught in their lungs.

"How much time do you think you have?" Chris asked curiously.

In front of him, seated on his lawn chair, Wesker shrugged and shifted the rifle in his lap. "I'm not sure, to be honest."

Chris sighed and took a long draw from his cigarette, "Is there anything you can do?"

"And you care why?" Wesker imposed, turning around to face him, sitting on the side of the chair.

"I know you know that you don't have long, Wesker. I can see it in your eyes every damned day. Every minute that goes by I see your strength fade like evaporating water. It just goes whenever it feels suit." Chris snapped his finger, "Poof." He shook his head and flicked his cigarette off the roof.

"I'll fight until the last breath escapes my lungs, Christopher. I'm not giving up on this, I'm not giving up on you, and I'm most certainly not giving up on my family." He looked at Chris with burning eyes and it had been quite a long time since they burned like that. He could feel the intensity welling up inside him. The thought of losing his family fired him up, it made him think straighter.

"Rebecca gives you six months," Chris said quietly. "Is that accurate on your side?"

Wesker looked away and into the sky as if he was waiting for someone to descend and raise him from perdition. "Yes." Wesker nodded slightly. "Yes it is."

Chris sighed again and placed his hand on Wesker's shoulder. "I won't let you leave her like this." He took his hand away and began his climb down the ladder.

**A/N: Sorry for another short one! I'm busy writing Summertime Sadness, another fic that I don't have a name for yet, AND I'm trying to rescue a piece from my old hard drive so I can finish it! Bare with me, the next chapter will be long and full of awesomeness!**


	36. The Journey

**I do not own RE.**

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><p><strong>Thank you to all who reviewed! It means a lot to me that you have the time to sit down and read my story. It makes me feel like I can entertain! Sorry for the wait! Things might slow down here more than usual. I'm getting very close to the end of my last year in high school and on top of that I have to juggle family, friends, work, sports, and me time!<strong>

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><p><em><strong>Buddha the Carhop: Thank you! Their "relationship" will get much more complicated as we delve further into the story!<strong>_

_**MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: You'll be excited for what's in store down below (Or maybe in the next chapter idk)!**_

_**Bloody Raptor: Thanks! I'm glad you're excited to read on!**_

_**Sundragon: Ah! Doctor Who! Love it :) Thanks for all of your kind words! You have a very unique way of interpreting the words I write! Please continue to stay!**_

_**AngelInTheDark19: It's ok! I can totally read your fic! It's the least I could do for you! You've been so kind to me these past months that if I could do anything, it's to read your fic! I'll PM you!**_

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 36: The Journey<span>**

"You stupid fucking thing..." Chris grumbled under his breath. He was hunched over an old Ford truck, ripping out the guts in the engine, trying to wire the thing back into place. They had two cars that would suit the trip to Eden, which was about a two day trip up north. One was a newer Nissan, all's it needed was some gas, and the other was the truck. Chris had been working on it all day; salvaging parts from other vehicles and sweating his time into it. Today was hotter than usual, somewhere in the mid 50's which was weird for January... it almost seemed that the area locked off by quarantine was affecting the weather. All of the death and rot here was in some way messing with the science of this place. It was common sense really, don't drink the water, don't eat the dead, that kind of thing.

The sun was high today and the group took this time to relax. They deserved it, Chris thought. They had been busting their asses 24/7 and the world hadn't let them off too easy. Although they were small in numbers, they made up with brute strength. Chris, Barry, Billy were the main men, carrying out the killing and the work. Jill, Claire, and Rebecca did most of the watching, taking care of the group and making sure that rations were satisfactory. Wesker... Wesker was getting weaker and weaker by the day. Chris could see his fading health and withering body. Even though he claimed he was alright, Chris knew that with every passing day, he just got more and more useless. It was cruel to think such a thing but he slowed them down in a way... personally, Chris still harbored a lot of hate towards Wesker. It didn't matter if he was "changed" or if he was taking his place as father to Patrick and Kaya, it was a matter of the past. Chris knew he should have let it go years before but all of the things that he had done to him was unforgivable. Wesker knew this and he acknowledged these feelings but between the two, life would never get along. It was hopeless.

Claire still saw something in him that Chris didn't. It irked the man to no ends. His sister was sucked into a world that she didn't belong in and to make matters worse, she couldn't open her eyes wide enough to see what was really going on. Wesker was, and always will be, a murderer. Period. No matter how many years would pass, Wesker would always be the same and Claire wouldn't leave him. Chris could see how much she loved him and it hurt him. How could she? Maybe Chris really was underestimating Wesker and what Claire was seeing Chris was denying. Denial or not, Wesker still had to prove himself to Chris.

XXXXX

Wesker rummaged carefully through the closet in the bedroom he stayed in with Claire. Shirts were hung nicely from hangers and shoe boxes lined the back wall. There were a few folded items above on a shelf and a full-length mirror in the corner. He needed a new shirt, if anything a new outfit. He was still in the clothes he fought Alex in. They were tattered and bloody, holes in the sleeves and the smell of sweat and outdoors. His pants had a large hole in the knee and dirt smudges all over. His shoes were the most unattractive thing about him right now.. the two-hundred dollar pair of black Haynes Oxford shoes were scuffed, holed, and utterly ruined. Whatever hell had reigned down upon his shoes was a sore sight. Wesker sat on the bed and removed them, tossing them into the corner of the room. His jeans were next, folded for some odd reason and placed next to him. Finally, he stripped his shirt off like another layer of skin, folded and placed it on top of the pants. Taking a deep breath, his bare skin was welcomed by the cool air from the bedroom. There was a knock on the door and Wesker stood up, clad only in his boxers he hoped it wasn't Chris coming to rant to him about responsibility.

When he opened the door, Claire was on the other side. She was courteous to knock because she knew Wesker was either asleep or something of the other. She blushed furiously when she noticed his choice in little clothing at the moment. Even though his body was denying him, Wesker still somehow managed to pull of a sexy James Bond look. His paling body was still carved and lean, torso rippling with muscle. His arms were large and when they would intertwine Claire she would feel like nothing in the world could grab ahold of her.

"What are you doing?" Claire chuckled a bit and closed the door behind her.

"Changing into something more suitable for the trip." Wesker said while turning around to the closet.

"Do you think we'll make it out of here tonight?"

Wesker was in the closet so his voice was muffled, "If Chris finishes the truck tonight I suggest we wait until morning to move." He emerged with a fresh navy t-shirt and a pair of black suit pants. "The dark is too dangerous... Especially considering who we have on board."

He sat down on the bed again and began to fit himself into the pants. Claire watched him wince from the soreness of his body and she noticed how slow he put the clothing on. Occasionally, he would writhe from the pain as it would only get worse every time he moved. The navy t-shirt he found fit and thankfully everything was clean.

"I think your missing some shoes, hon." Claire said softly, walking over to the bed. Wesker looked up at her with his rubicund eyes and smiled only slightly. She missed that smile...

Claire dug through the numerous shoe boxes until she found something that would at least match the outfit he had on. They were a pair of gray Vans, an authentic style that Claire's dad used to wear all the time. "This guy knows what he's doing." Claire said. "I'm surprised that everything fits."

Wesker put on the shoes with some distaste as they weren't his style nor his choice, but they would have to suffice for now or until they were ruined.

XXXXX

Night was on its way and it was getting here faster than Chris had anticipated. He was close to finishing the truck and Billy had siphoned enough gas to fill two ten gallon tanks for the trip. Hopefully, that would be enough to get them to Eden. That place, even thought he hadn't even seen it yet, irked him. How could a bunch of people pull something like that out of their asses and keep it sustaining? Really, the concept was beyond Chris. He fiddled some more with the wiring inside the engine and the plugs. Most of the parts he had salvaged were replacing the olds just fine. He would have the truck running by morning if not in a few hours.

He and Barry tested some things on the truck, keeping the noise on the down low as the sun was setting fast and the darkness was right on their tails. The lights worked, the radio worked, and the engine turned over for about ten seconds until the damned thing would stall out.

"Jesus Christ come on..." Chris said under his breath. His hands were covered in grease and he thrust his arms even further through the parts of the engine. "Try it now," Chris hollered to Barry sitting in the drivers seat. The engine coughed and sputtered but to no avail. "Christ..."

Chris fumbled around with the hunk of metal for another twenty minutes until it finally turned over and stayed running. It was ready for the trip to Eden.

XXXXX

That night, the whole house was quiet. Everyone was asleep aside from Chris who was on watch. The cold was biting him harshly and he wrapped himself tighter in a blanket. The rifle sat heavy on his lap and his eyes averted every direction watching for danger. Sleep sounded serene but it wasn't a luxury at the moment. The group would leave early the next morning. As soon as the sun was breaking over the horizon, they would load up everything they would need and head north to find the walls of Eden. Jill had heard from a few officers before the worst part of the storm that Eden was being built to look like a fortress. The outside had thirty foot walls and was surrounded by towering, thick pines. Whatever was inside would be a mystery until they were there witnessing it for themselves. The only thing Chris wanted was for the group to be safe and live another day. It was unknown to him each time if he would wake up to see the sun. Now, these days, it was a matter of pure survival and timing. Everything had to be done with complete precision otherwise plans would drown and lives would suffer. It was his job to get them to safety. He would not send his friends and family to march to their deaths.

XXXXX

_6:00 AM_

_January 25th, 2012_

_Location: New York City_

_Destination: Eden - Suspected to be located in Adirondack Park, NY_

_32 degrees fahrenheit - the acute temperature of freezing_

Chris loaded the weapons in the bed of the truck and placed other supplied back there as well. It was a three-seater so Barry would drive while Chris got some shut-eye and Billy sat at the end. The Nissan could fit five and Wesker would drive, Claire in the front, Jill, Rebecca, and Patrick in the back. Kaya was cradled in Claire's arms wrapped in a blanket. They each filled their tanks a quarter of the way so they would conserve some gas for later. Rations were separated so that everyone was eating fairly. It was now time to leave the city in their rearview mirrors and kiss the death goodbye.

For now.

**A/N: I think Wesker's outfit was hot when I was literally shopping for it online. **


	37. Almost

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

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><p><strong>I haven't been here in so long!<strong>

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><p><em><strong>Buddha the Carhop: Thanks!<strong>_

_**Tomoko Takami: Welcome back!**_

_**Bloody Raptor: I'll be completely honest with you, I went to JC Penny's site for his pants and Vans site for his shoes. I'm just idiotic and like to get certain things down to a science ya know?**_

_**MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: Ah, you're prediction is an interesting one. I suppose you'll just have to wait and see what Eden has in store for our band of misfits!**_

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 37: Almost<strong>

Leaving something behind is like watching something die. It was slow, painful, and in the end, regret washed over you like a tidal wave. Denial was what sought after and it strangled you until you couldn't breath without that one thing you left behind. The town that held these survivors close was now dust in their rearview mirrors. The city was to be ash. Salvation was just beyond their mighty reach and yet the dark forest of fading hope was what lie between them. They were just filthy and beaten soldiers searching for something that could possibly be a fake.

The ride was silent. Chris lead the group down a stretch of road that seemed to last forever. The truck that he drove was rumbling lowly in the morning noise, the pink sun beating down on the hood, beaming it around like a halo. Barry fiddled with his gun, occasionally flicking his eyes to the road. The other car behind them sheltered the rest of the group, tagging along faithfully through the morning. Today it was colder then usual. Although the sun had begun to risen, it did not make of for the frost covering the grass for miles to see. Radio towers that no longer worked shot high into the sky, wires lazily hanging from them. Fields of crops and lands of grass was all there was to see. Nothing more and nothing less.

Finally after what seemed like hours of driving on this road, Chris could spot the woods that surrounded the park. Although it was day, the woods seemed to carry darkness throughout them as if they were hiding a secret. The low grumble of Chris' old truck seemed to calm him as the coming storm was untold. He looked in the rearview mirror to see Wesker and the others following close behind and he rolled down the window to flag them over to the side of the road. He turned off the engine and stepped out, rubbing his eyes from exhaustion. Wesker, who walked like he had a stick up his ass due to pain, winced and pushed his back forward. Claire settled Kaya in the front seat, tucking her in with a blanket. Chris laid a map on the hood of the Nissan and the bright red circle stood out from the yellow of the map, Chris' thick finger pointed there and he sighed. "We have about..." Chris pondered for a second, rubbing his hand across his oncoming beard. "Ten miles to go... maybe a bit more."

Claire stood next to Wesker, leaning into him tiredly. "Do we even know what to look for when we get there?"

Chris sighed again and shrugged lazily. "Personally, I don't think this place exists... it just seems too good to be true."

Wesker's face turned sour and his red eyes flickered. "Then why the hell are we on this wild goose chase?" His temper flared and Claire's fingers tightened their grip on him, holding him back a little.

"Albert..." Claire whispered softly to him. "Albert it's ok... just calm down." The tyrant stopped his tugging and settled back, his look still boiled Chris harshly.

"Let's keep going," Claire chided. "We can only try."

Wesker and Chris kept their gazes locked on each other, neither of them relenting. Claire's fingers lingered on Wesker's hot skin and she looked up at him. Ever since that day in '98, Chris would never again look up to Wesker. The very mention of his name sickened him to the bone. Chris was one to hold grudges until either him or the offender was dead. It didn't matter how many years would pass because both of them knew they would be enemies until one of them choked and died. There were times when they acted like civilized men and handled their tempers rather well. Then there were times like this when neither of them could trust the other as far as they could throw them.

Chris walked away first, shaking his head and folding up the map. He grumbled something under his breath and slammed the door shut. Wesker's stone wall expression did not change as he returned to the car. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white and unwillingly followed the old truck in front of him.

XXXXX

The woods were exceptionally quiet for this time of day. It was almost eleven in the morning. There was no sun, no birds, and no wind. It was horribly silent. The road that they followed was beginning to dwindle into nothing and it looked as though they may have to continue on foot. They didn't have too many supplies so walking was not out of the question. The only problem that Chris could see arising was leaving the cars only to find nothing. It still didn't dawn on him that there was hope somewhere out there. He thought that if hope was anywhere, it wouldn't be in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. However, the rest of the group was confident that Eden was just a walk away and that they would finally be safe from the terror. No news of the outside world rang in their ears. To them, the rest of the world might as well be dead too because at this moment, it didn't really make a difference. So for now, it was either here or nowhere.

Chris stopped the truck at the end of the path and turned the engine off. Barry looked at him worriedly but then nodded, cocking his shotgun. Billy checked the amount of ammo he had in his handgun then how much they had left in the backpack. It wasn't much, but at this point in time, it would have to suffice. The others packed their bags and readied their guns.

"We'll follow this path." Chris said. "Everyone keep your eyes peeled... this is all unfamiliar territory and we can't afford to lose anybody right now."

Wesker slowed his breathing which caused the pain in his chest to go down, but only slightly. He gripped his axe so hard that his hands began to cramp, he was trying his best to ward away the pain that welled in his chest. It burned, it stung, and it hurt like no other. As if his insides were on fire, his lungs burned as did his heart.

Everything hurt.

These were his body's last moments before it submerged itself into a 'purging' state. During the purge his body would rid itself of all toxins. In this case, the only practical toxin that resided in his body was T. There was no real way to get rid of it. There was no cure. However, the purge could very well kill him and revive him thus, expelling the virus. There was no real way to test it... Wesker would either have to rely on chance or luck. And both of them have let him down in the past.

His eyes faded in and out of focus, making it hard for him to see what was in front of him and what was 100 yards away. It was harder to distinct color although, color didn't matter too much. There was sweat accumulating on his forehead, heat burst through him and his skin felt like boiling off his bones. He stumbled behind the moving group, trying to catch his breath.

"Albert..." Claire grabbed his shoulder softly. "Albert you should sit down for a sec."

He blew her off and shook his head. "I just need some water..."

Claire eyed him and handed him the bottle. Wesker chugged the entire thing, the coolness flooding through his body.

"Does that help?"

He didn't reply to her, only kept walking. Claire was offended... he ignored her as if she wasn't there. She didn't know if it was because of his symptoms or if he really didn't care anymore... she doubted the latter and hoped that her doubt would hold true. She watched him struggle everyday, wondering when he'd get better. She knew at this point in time, his body just hacking up the remains of physical torture. Wesker's personal and highly intention abuse was just his way of getting rid of the bad in turn for the new.

The fog rolled in even thicker, and almost like a scene from a horror movie, the atmosphere grew darker, more sinister. The air was thick, hard to breathe. The snapping of twigs under boots made Claire flinch, for come reason all she could think about were bones breaking underneath her feet. Years ago... on Rockfort... piles of bones lines the paths, a result of massacre. All those years ago the remains of the innocent dusted under her shoes.

How could she forget?

The group just sauntered on. Through the dark, through the fog, through the cold, and through the dirt. Then the dark became darker, the fog became thicker, the cold became colder, and the dirt became dirtier. Mud stuck to the bottom of shoes, making deep footprints. Chris looked down and saw how the imprint of their shoes would possibly cause an easy track.

"Stop." Chris commanded. "Our footprints..." The group looked at the mud and back on the trail. They had been walking for a long time and the inches of grime sucked in their prints like memory foam.

"Wesker," Chris waved the man to the front of the pack. "Is your crazy-ass brother still after you?" It was more of a rhetorical question.

"Most likely."

Chris squinted as he looked up in the canopy of trees. "He a good tracker?"

"Probably."

The Redfield shook his head and adjusted the machine gun strapped around him. "As good as you?"

"I don't know."

Chris sighed. "Why don't you know?"

Wesker glared at him. "Why don't I know?" The tyrant chuckled menacingly, shaking his head, walking in a circle before his arms shot out, grabbing Chris by his shirt, shoving him against a tree. Barry and Billy moved in but Jill grabbed the older man's shoulder and whispered something in his ear. The man backed down.

"Maybe the reason why I don't know is because I never had the chance to meet my brother." His hands gripped on even harder, turning his knuckles white. "He and I were two worlds apart. I was lucky and he was not. It was the little things that separated us and when our father died _that_ is what sparked this hatred. _That_ is what brought us together on these terms. He wants to_ kill_ me and he's doing a pretty damned good job."

"Then maybe I should reconsider your admittance here." Chris seethed through his teeth.

**A/N: Ugh... that's all I can hash out this time you guys! Sorry :( I know this hasn't been updated in 2 months but I'm getting really REALLY close to graduation so I'm really focused on that. So if at anytime you wanna know what's up or where I am and how I'm doing with SOM, message me and we'll chat! I'm still alive!**


	38. Eden

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

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><p><strong>HOLY SHIT. You guys I actually feel like a horrible person for not updating. I just graduated high school and now I'm off to college so I've been really, really busy! Please forgive me! ;A; I'm leaving you now with a massive chapter because, first of all, I feel like an ass for not updating, and secondly, this is the climax of the story.<strong>

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><p><em><strong>Bloody Raptor: Thank you for sticking around through all of my idiocy!<strong>_

_**Coolsville Times: Welcome! I love to hear from new reviewers!**_

_**MaleficMistress: Thank you SO much for all your kind words! You've been with me from the start and I really appreciate it!**_

_**MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: Thanks!**_

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 38: Eden<strong>

After Chris and Wesker's scuff, the group kept on moving. Wesker hung in the back next to Claire and Patrick, holding Kaya in his arms gently. His son kicked the occasional pebble that wandered to his wearing shoe and he hummed something under his breath that Wesker could not decipher.

"Dad?" The boy chimed.

Wesker looked down at him, "Yes?"

"What's your favorite color?" Patrick squinted up at him, his blonde hair catching the little light that remained, showing the dirt that clung to it.

Wesker knew what his son was up to. The boy had not seen nor heard from his father all his life. He admired him like a superhero, an idol that the eleven-year-old child could hold on a pedestal as if he was the greatest thing to grace this earth. Patrick was enamored with his father. All he ever wanted to to _know_ him. He wanted to go to baseball games, play catch in the yard, watch stars at night, stay up late and eat ice cream even though mom had denied him. He wanted to learn how to mow lawns and start a grill... but no one was there for him. He had no father to learn from and now Patrick was being allowed that chance. Somewhere in his heart, he knew it wouldn't last long but he sure as hell wanted to make the most of it.

Wesker chuckled a bit, adjusting Kaya in his arms. "Red."

"Your favorite movie?"

"The Shining."

The boy looked to his father, "What's that?" He asked inquisitively.

"I'll tell you when you're older." Wesker winked down to his son and smiled.

The boy huffed, "Well then how bout your favorite drink?"

"Coffee."

"Food?"

"Steak."

"Favorite dinosaur?"

"Stegosaurs."

Patrick laughed at his fathers choice but had one last question for him. "Who's your favorite person in the whole wide world?"

Wesker looked up to Claire who was a little ways in front of them and he nodded in her direction. "Your mother."

She turned to face him and flipped her fiery hair sarcastically. "Don't flatter me, baby." She winked at him and his mouthful of straight teeth flashed a wolfish smile. She slowed her pace, standing next to him and kissed his cheek. Wesker whispered something in her ear and Patrick looked up to his parents. Claire laughed, trying to stifle it.

"What's so funny, Claire?" Chris shot.

His sister gave him a warning look, "Al was telling me a joke, you big jerk. Calm your tits."

Jill laughed at Claire's remark towards her brother and once Jill laughed, Barry chuckled a little, thus making the whole groups laughter raise through the trees. Claire settled down a sighed, that's all they really needed, some happiness. It was hard to find these days. People were dying, the city they knew was headed straight for hell and there was no one strong enough or brave enough to save it. Claire's joy had now left her and she knew everyone else was feeling the same thing. Sorrow seemed to be the main theme nowadays. In the dead of the night, there was no more noise to wake to, no nightlife, no planes, and no angry taxi drivers. The woman's neighborhood was probably an infested block of sick bastards or a desolate ghost road with little to remember.

Claire looked down at her muddied shoes and her eyes flickered softly, she thought she might cry but then thought of everything bad she had left behind there, in that city to rot. Surprisingly, there were problems. Bills weren't easy to pay being a single mom with two kids. Safety was kind of an issue. She had to protect that which meant the world to her with nothing more than her wits and a nine mil. Crime, little there was in her area, scared her to death. It was just a mindless, mental scar that plagued her unfortunately. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Claire knew that she could survive. She was a survivor. Who would have though she lived through Raccoon and then Rockfort, not to mention Harvardville? She learned that day that friends were good to have and protecting kids meant everything to her. All the while she was skidding by the seat of her pants, she had a feeling that Wesker was out there somewhere... knowing that this particular event was happening. She never thought to ask him until now... but she wanted to refrain herself. What if he had nothing to do with it at all and she would just anger him by accusing him? She doubted the latter and perked up to speak to him.

"Do you remember Harvardville?" Shed asked, looking up to him.

The blonde nodded thoughtfully and cleared his throat however, it came out more of a strangled cough. "Yes... I remember it quite well. Why?"

"I was there." Claire said softly.

"I know."

She took a harsh breath and clenched her fists, trying not to anger herself with thoughts of the past. "I almost died."

Wesker looked down at her, his fading red eyes boring right into her. "How could I have known what you were up to that day? Do you think I did that on purpose?"

"Albert you seem to attack everything on purpose. It's kinda what you do if you haven't forgotten."

"I feel as though it was simple coincidence that you were there that day, Claire. If I had know that you were present, I wouldn't have initiated the attack. You cannot honestly blame me for that." Wesker coughed into the crook of his arm yet, more violently. He hacked worse with every inhale and couldn't seem to control it. Claire eyed him as he spat deep crimson blood onto his paling skin.

"I knew it..." Claire said softly.

He looked at her, "What do you mean?"

"I told Jill that I was worried about your condition and since then you've gotten worse." Her blue eyes looked at him with a silent plead. "Albert... what are you going to do?"

He sighed heavily and shook his head, "I don't know. It seems that the only thing I _can_ do is suffer."

Claire choked on a sob and tried to repress it. "I don't want you to suffer anymore, Albert. I can't watch you do that."

"Then kill me." He suggested dryly.

Claire seemed taken aback by this and her eyes widened a bit, she shifted uncomfortably when her eyes scanned over the machine gun that hung around Chris' shoulder. "No." She stated quietly. "How could say something like that?"

Wesker shrugged, "You said you didn't want to see me suffer and personally, I'm sick of it too. If I put a bullet through my brain, I'd be done... I wouldn't have to do this anymore."

"What about Alex?"

"His mission will run cold." He shifted in his skin that he was no longer used to. "Claire..." Wesker looked down to her. "If I had the choice I would stay with you forever... but I can't and you know why." He proceeded to take her delicate face in his hands but she declined his gesture with a recoil.

"You have no spirit anymore, Albert..." She spoke lowly.

"It died a while ago."

XXXXX

Chris stopped the group for a map check and confirmed that they were still on the right path. The rumors that Jill had heard were that the walls of Eden were fifty feet tall, made from the tallest pine in the forest. The perimeter was vast, it would take days to walk around the whole thing, or so it was said. Survivors were to look for a distinguishable cut in a section of pine that looked as though it was cut out and placed back like a piece to a ragged puzzle. If they were to find that part of the wall, the next step was to look for a small, rectangular slat in the wall. Once found, the travelers were to knock three times and no more. A keeper would slide the slat to see who resided on the other side. City survivors were accepted as new members and it was a safe haven for the leader and their company.

The ragged man and his company... it still seemed farfetched to Chris but nowadays, everything seemed farfetched to him. There was still an uncomfortable silence that wafted through the winds like a stealthy killer on the loose. His hazel eyes averted to every corner he could humanly see. His ears were open wide, listening for anything out of the ordinary. And his reflexes were on the edge, waiting for a strike. Gun or fist, he was prepared. Jill walked beside him, her packs contents clanging together in a strange harmony that set Chris at some kind of ease.

Suddenly, like it was a blessing in disguise, the potent smell of fire rose to Chris' nose.

"Everyone stop." He commanded. "Do you smell that?"

Barry approached him, "Fire."

"This way!" Chris shouted. He wanted to punish himself for ever doubting that something could be out there but at the time it all seemed too good to be true. Through the denseness of the fog Chris could see the shrouded flames of torches. The fog was clouding his eyesight but he could swear he saw the dark shadow of walls.

The breath in his lungs turned to fire as the torches got closer. He could hear the company behind him, heaving from the thick air. Chris came to a screeching stop when his hazel eyes took in the sight of the walls of Eden. The torches were on either side of a slat. The slat from the damned story he took for granted.

"We found it." Barry said plainly. He chuckled deep in his throat and shook his head. "We fucking found it."

Jill smiled and tears welled up in her eyes. Finally. After weeks of travel and searching. It was high time they get some rest and food. Chris looked to Barry and Billy who nodded in approval. He raised his knuckles above the slat and knocked three times. There was a pause, one that felt like he had been waiting hours for an answer. He dared not knock again.

The silence of the forest crept in from all corners and made the hair on Chris' neck stand on end.

"Maybe no ones home." Barry inquired with a silly grin trying to lighten the mood.

There was a sliding sound and the slat pried open, ice blue eyes meeting Chris'.

"Company?" A voice said from the other side.

Chris nodded, "Yes."

"How many, sir?"

"Nine."

The opening was shut abruptly and Chris was taken back. Were they just denied?

However, it reopened moments later, those blue eyes meeting again. "Stand back please." The eyes averted to a stone wall about 100 yards back. "Over there."

Chris shuffled everyone to the wall and watched as an enormous wooden drawbridge was beginning its decent to the forest floor. It creaked loudly, large, and what look like salvaged chain links, clattered downward. When the bridge was finally upon the ground, the man with the piercing blue hues came to the threshold and beckoned to the group. The stood around him, being eyed as though he was examining each and every one of them. He was young, perhaps in his mid-twenties. He was dressed in a blue dress shirt with white suspenders strapped to his corduroy pants. His loafers were grimed with dirt as were his rough hands.

"My name is Andrew." He greeted. "Welcome to Eden."

**A/N: Welcome to Eden.**


	39. Harbinger

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

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><p><strong>Hey guys! How's your summer going?<strong>

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><p><em><strong>Bloody Raptor: Thanks!<strong>_

_**Coolsville Times: Thank you so much!**_

_**MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: Wesker, Wesker, you're our man! If you can't do it... well I guess no one can.**_

_**Sundragon: Oh. My. God. This is seriously the most honest, pure, and nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Your review really means a lot, it's words like yours that keep me going and that keep me writing stories. I would be nowhere without my reviewers, honest. I want to thank you again for all of the kind words you have said to me over the course of SOM. It really means a lot to me that you enjoy my writing! Can't wait to hear from you again, Sundragon!**_

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 39: Harbinger<strong>

**har·bin·ger : anything that foreshadows a future event; bad omen; sign; death knell.**

Andrew led the company through the towering drawbridge. As they moved forward, the chains cranked upwards, pulling the staggering door shut with a woody creak. Andrew turned to them as he stopped in front of a gate that was locked with a large deadbolt. There were two men on either side of them, guns positioned against their chest. They wore stony looks as if they were a pair of statues.

"These are the inner gate guards." Andrew started. "The one on the left is Rocky and the one on the right is Jonah." He then asked them to open the gate. As they did so, Chris looked to the guards with slight suspicion. They looked familiar, but he couldn't remember where he had possibly seen their faces. He wondered if they were colleagues or enemies. Whichever one, Chris wasn't about to take any chances. He would get to know every single soul in this place.

"The are not permitted to let anyone in or out without permission." Andrew chimed.

He led the group through the door and it was promptly shut behind them. He faced them with a smile and spread out his arms. "This is Eden." He stepped aside, allowing the company to take in the sights of their new sanctuary. The land was flat, perfect for a growing development. There was a clear pattern to how the buildings were laid down. The middle of the town was an intersection, four equal, and large plots of land on each side. The upper right corner were small houses and barns for storage. The upper left were businesses. A pharmacy, a market, and a large mill that looked as if it was housing grain or something of the other. The bottom right there were more houses and a large barn, ironically painted red. Finally, the last part of the "mainland", the bottom left, there was a hospital of sorts, and a garden that looked like leisure ground for sick patients.

There were children playing on the cobblestone paths, kicking a bright blue ball. They were skipping with joy as a group of them played and chased a large dog about a yard closer by. Chris could see that behind all of the finished development, there were large farms in the distance.

"Farms?" He asked.

Andrew nodded. "We raise all of our animals. Cows and pigs for meat, goats and cows for milk, and chickens for eggs. We also sow our own crops." He paused for a moment to turn to the farms in the back. "Corn, potatoes, wheat, grain, and tomatoes." Andrew turned back to Chris and smiled. "We've also started on fruits. Apples and oranges for now."

"This is a very innovative place you have here." Barry chimed.

Andrew nodded, "We built the whole thing from the bottom."

"Are you the founder of this place, Andrew?" Chris asked sternly.

The young man shook his head, "Oh no." He turned to the largest house that was in the bottom right corner of the land. "Michael is the founder of Eden. The brains behind it all."

Chris looked towards the house. "Could we meet him?"

Andrew nodded. "But of course. I will alert him of your presence. For now," He waved his hand to the space behind him. "Feel free to explore."

The man left Chris and his company to their own devices while he fetched the one named Michael. He turned to face his friends.

"Well, I guess this is as good as it's gonna get."

Jill smiled. "I like it!"

Rebecca nodded. "It's better than being out there, that's for sure."

Chris continues to glance around skeptically. It seemed as if this place was too good to be true. However, here he was, seeing this huge structure with his own two eyes. A few moments later, Andrew reappeared with another man in tow. He was older, about mid 40's if Chris had to guess. His graying hair slicked sideways, blue eyes dull with age, and skin tanned from work. He had a large build, something that Chris found odd.

He nodded to Chris and cleared his throat. "My name is Michael, the leader and founder of Eden." The two men shook hands and Chris proceeded with his introduction.

"The name's Chris," He pointed over his shoulder. "That's Barry and that's Billy." Turning to face the remainder of the company he started again. "That's Jill and Rebecca. That's my sister, Claire, her two kids, Patrick and Kaya..." He paused for a brief moment to overlook Wesker who was standing firmly next to Claire. His eyes were straight on him, like a hawk. He could see the tyrants knuckles clench as if he was verbally warning Chris. "And that's Wesker." Chris said flatly.

Michael nodded and opened his arms. "Welcome to Eden, Christopher and company. You have a fine group of people, however, I must ask if any of them have been infected."

Chris shook his head. "No, no ones been bitten but the kid, Kaya, she's in a coma... has been for a while."

Michael nodded. "Well we have many doctors here at Eden and I'm sure they could be of great use to you." He motioned to Andrew. "This is my son, I'm sure you've already been introduced. He can show Claire to the hospital where we can put the girl there."

Andrew smiled to Claire who took it as a warm appreciation. There was finally someone who could help her little girl. Wesker, however, was hesitant. He grabbed Claire's wrist and turned her around to face him.

"I have a bad feeling, Claire." Wesker whispered in her ear. "I don't know why."

Claire bowed her head and her eyes flicked to Michael. "I don't why you do... it seems safe here, Albert."

Wesker sighed and let her go. "I suppose." His eyes wandered, scoping the grounds as if he thought threats were lurking around every corner. It was a trait from the field, being so paranoid. It kept him on his toes and he thanked every deity for that.

Andrew then proceeded to take Claire and Kaya to the hospital while Patrick stayed with his father. Michael was chatting with Chris, the older mans eyes occasionally flicking back to Wesker. He then detached himself from his conversation with Chris and walked sternly over to Wesker. He walked over as if he was trying to threaten him but Wesker knew, or at least he thought he knew, that Michael posed no threat.

His weathered hand shot out to shake Wesker's calloused one. "Wesker, huh?" He questioned, his fingers gripped tightly around his wrist. "I've heard of you before."

"Have you?" Wesker questioned curiously stern. "From whom, may I ask?"

Michael ran his hand along the stubble that lined his strong jaw. "Yes, now that I recall, a man rolled through town a few days before you arrived."

Chris approached the conversation and raised his eyebrows. "And they didn't stay?"

Michael shook his head. "No, he said that he was off to better things. What that means, I have no clue. There is nothing better out there anymore."

He turned back to Wesker who had at least three inches on him, the discolor in his red hues swirling with perplexity.

"He warned us." Michael looked right into Wesker's dulling rubicund eyes. "He said he was a prophet."

"A prophet? Are you kidding?" Chris scoffed. "And you believed him why?"

Michael shook his head and turned to the younger man. "Why wouldn't you?" Looking back to Wesker, he eyed him as if he was an abomination, something that he feared. "I believe him because what he had said... came true."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Chris shouted.

"He warned me of a man with red hues, bloodstained hands, and a wolfish smile. He said that he would come, ravage the town. Rage fueled destruction. He would kill, feast, and smother the town with fire." Michael took a unnerved step back from Wesker, who could only furrow his blonde eyebrows in confusion. "The man with red eyes would kill... for nothing."

Chris peered to Wesker. "You think it was Alex?" He questioned lowly.

"I know it was Alex." Wesker stated firmly.

Michael, who was still stricken with some kind of horror, couldn't find the words to begin his reasoning. "I apologize..." his blue eyes wandering over Wesker's face. "But you don't look like a killer, Mr. Wesker. I do not have the ground to stand on to call you one... but I just cannot take the risk. Don't you understand?"

Wesker swiped his hand across his stubble. "Did that man say what his names was?"

Michael shook his head. "No. He only said that he was a prophet that had dire news."

"What did he look like?" Chris asked.

"Tall. Thin. Blonde." Michael dished out adjectives, trying his best to come up with an image. "Now that I think about it," He pointed to Wesker. "His face looked very similar to yours." He shook his head. "But he was hooded and cloaked. I couldn't describe him very well other than that."

Wesker breathed and clenched his fist. Alex had come through the town before them... "warned" the town of a harbinger. He understood, however, why the town believed him. They were devout. All that they had know had been stripped away from them. It was mysterious, those who knew what was happening either survived it the first time or watched too many movies. The was, as cliche as it sounded, the apocalypse. The dead outnumbered the living.

"He's sick." Chris blurted to Michael in one last attempt to keep Wesker away from a prison cell.

The older man looked to Wesker and ran his blue eyes over him. "I can see that." Michael shook his head and beckoned to a man who was sitting on his porch smoking a cigarette. "This is Robert. He's a doctor..." He shook hands with the two men and inspected Wesker from afar. "He can take a look at your friend but after that I'm going to have to ask you to turn him over to us."

"You're gonna take my dad away?" Patrick, who had crept up to listen to the adult's conversation, pushed between Chris and Wesker.

Michael looked down to the young boy who's eyes were dampening with tears. "Son..."

Wesker gave Patrick an urgent but gentle tug, moving him behind his legs. "Don't you _ever_ call him son." He growled, rubicund eyes flashing violently.

Michael, who now had reason to be somewhat threatened whispered something into Robert's ear.

"He'll take a look at you." Robert nodded towards his home where he would "diagnose" Wesker as best he could.

"Patrick, stay here with Christopher."

"But, dad!" The boy ran up to his father and grabbed his hand urgently. "I'm scared... I don't like it here."

Wesker bent down to his son's height and placed a large hand on his shoulder. "Don't you ever be afraid, Patrick. You have to be strong. For your mother." Wesker's eyes ran over his sons face. In so many ways did he resemble his aging father. "For Kaya." He gave him a comforting squeeze and smiled. "Never forget who you are, son."

XXXXX

Kaya lay soundlessly in the bed. She was being hooked up to IV's, the needles pushing up her skin. Claire ran her hands over her tired eyes. She needed a good nights sleep... Her daughter was now safe and sound and in a place that Claire trusted. She was usually very weary of situations such as this; a supposed safe haven... but here it was, in all of its glory. The doctor had told Claire that Kaya's cerebral cortex, which was the "gray area" in the front of the brain, was still damaged severely, causing the lack of response. However, she was stirring from time to time, which was a good sign. She was stable, all of her respirating and circulating functions were working properly.

The doctors were now administrating a glucose shock, which stopped brain swelling. Now they had to wait. With the proper treatment, shots, and respiration, they reassured Claire that she would awake soon. But somewhere, in the back of her mind, her daughter didn't survive. Somewhere in the tiniest corners of her brain, Kaya wouldn't wake up and they would have to pull the plug. Claire had seen that situation in movies. Patients would be under for so long, they could no longer carry them on life support. She hoped to whatever god was up there that they didn't have to make that decision. She wanted her to live. She wanted her to live that life until she was gray and old. Happy. Not confined to a hospital bed in a nightmare she would never wake from.

Claire put her face in her hands and she felt warm tears pool through the cracks in her fingers. She wanted to stop but the emotions were so overwhelming. Her daughter was unconscious, Patrick was depressed, and Wesker was near death. Her whole family was falling apart. Her little, makeshift family that she loved more than anything on this earth. She hoped that here, in Eden, they could finally find the "salvation" that they deserved. They were the fighters, the survivors. The ones that deserved a place to lay their weary heads at night. Fearless of what the world had become.

Claire sucked in a breath and she coughed harshly when she let in plenty more than enough. Her coughing mixed in with her seemingly useless sobs. made her hyperventilate. They echoed through the room, the heart monitor drowned out. Claire gripped her hair and tugged down hard. The tears now full on, they pitter pattered to the tiled floor. She raked her fingers down the sides of her face, dropping them unceremoniously to her sides. Her head hung and she finally calmed down. She was just sitting there, helpless and hapless.

There was a knock on the door. "Come in..." She mumbled. It opened slowly, creaking loudly. Claire looked up to see Wesker standing in the doorway. He looked exhausted, his eyes were heavy, but then again, Claire looked the same.

"Hello." He said quietly.

Claire smiled softly. "Hi."

"Why are you crying, dearheart?"

Claire shook her head and ran her hands through her hair. "I just don't know what to do anymore, Albert."

He strode across the room and gently grabbed either of her hands, lifting her from the chair and into a tight embrace. "There's nothing you can do." Wesker said into the crook of her neck. Her face was buried into his shoulder, breathing in his fresh scent. Her fingers clutched to the shirt tightly and she could feel another wave of tears. "Shhh..." Wesker cooed. "It's alright." He placed a kiss on her temple and she looked up at him, tears staining her pale skin. Wesker placed his hands on her face, running his thumbs over the wetness of her cheeks. He bent down, placing a kiss upon her lips. Wesker closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, brining her further into him.

Claire could hear his heartbeat. One of the few things that convinced her that he was still a man. Still a human. It thumped evenly, a simple beat that steadied her own. She exhaled and still pressed against his chest, relaxed her aching muscles.

"I love you." Wesker said softly.

"I love you, too."

**A/N: Hey guys! sorry for the wait... i feel really bad but my summer has been kinda hectic. i start my freshman year of college in 3 days and i'm moving into my new place so i've been kinda busy getting everything settled so i don't look like an idiot on my first day! but don't worry, i'm not leaving you guys!**


	40. Gallows

**Disclaimer: I don't own RE.**

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><p><strong>Hey guys! I'm really happy nowadays and I just wanna let you know that I haven't given up on this! I just started college and I love it! So bear with me if I'm a little slow!<strong>

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><p><em><strong>Bloody Raptor: Thank you!<strong>_

_**Coolsville Times: Thanks!**_

_**Haveyouseenmyghost: Wow! Just wow! Thank you so very much for all of the kind words! I really love you reviews and I hope you stick around for the remainder of SOM!**_

_**MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: Thank you :)**_

_**Sundragon: Happy belated birthday! You'll be surprised as to what happens next!**_

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 40: Gallows<strong>

It was gray today. The clouds were letting up but the sun was still hiding behind a few of the cumulous blobs. It wasn't long until the quietness of the town began to bother Chris. He awoke in the cot that he was given last night; the house that he, Barry, and Billy stayed in was right across from the hospital. It was flanked on either side by other houses. They were simple, two story farm homes that had four bedrooms each. Two bathrooms with working toilets and a small kitchen that had a wood burning stove and a small, beat up refrigerator. To save energy and water, clothing was washed at the mill which was further back towards the farms. They were scrubbed on washboards the old fashioned way. There wasn't much furniture, just a few chairs in a small common room and in each bedroom, a small cot and dressers. Wood flooring covered the entirety of the house and the walls were a pale beige. It was simple, more or less to save manpower and materials.

Chris stretched out, his feet hanging of the edge of the cot, his large form covered in a thin blanket. There was heating but it was minimal, just enough to allow warmth through the night. He was clad in his beaten blue jeans and a white t-shirt. Chris rubbed his eyes with his calloused hands and then gathered his holster, strapping it to the side of his pants, his clasped his large hand over the cold two pounds that resided there. With a deep breath and a little doubt in the back of his mind, he walked down the creaking stairs. Not bothering with breakfast right now, he checked the filthy watch that stuck itself to his wrist.

8:10 AM

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Jesus..." He muttered under his breath. Swinging the front door open, he sucked in a breath, trying to clear everything out. His head was full of contradictions, doubts, and yet, he slightly enjoyed the fact that his friends and family had somewhere safe to stay. However, as he walked out onto the lawn, he then noticed that in the center of the courtyard there was a wooded platform that housed a rickety looking gallows. There were three holes cut into the top section, where the ropes would hang, and a lever in which released the trapdoor for the victim to hang. Chris gaped at the seemingly medieval act of punishment. He jogged over to the largest home on the land, Michaels home and once there he rapped his large fist on the door urgently. Andrew, who looked as if he was just waking up, smiled at him.

"Good morning, Chris." He greeted. "Is there something you need?"

"Yeah I need to talk to your father, if that's ok."

Andrew nodded and welcomed Chris into the front room. "I'll be just moment."

Chris waited, his booted foot tapping on the wooded floor. He was anxious. What the hell were they planning on doing with gallows? A minute later, Andrew reappeared with Michael in tow.

"Morning, Christopher!"

The younger man nodded and shuffled back a step, trying to set a distance between them. "I just have a question." Chris blurted.

Michael eyed the man and smiled, almost as if he knew what he was going to ask next. "Why of course." He waved his hand absently. "Go ahead."

"Why would you be in need of a gallows here? Do you punish criminals?"

Michael chuckled. "Not just criminals but criminals of God."

Chris squinted and he clenched his fists, trying not to verbally demonstrate how uncomfortable he was. "Criminals of God? How could you hang someone who doesn't believe in the same values you do?"

The older man shook his head and smiled again, something that was beginning to irritate Chris. "No, you misunderstand me. We only punish those that have acted upon treason, stealing, if it has gone too far, and those who question or defy the rules of Eden." Michael strode around the front room, gazing at pictures that were seemingly hung up for useless decoration and turned his back to Chris. "I do not condone any of these acts. Those were crimes in the old world so shall they be here."

"But people like that don't get hung anymore!" Chris shouted. "You put people like that in jail! Do you not have one?"

"We have a jail." Michael corrected. "However, you cannot always guarantee that those who commit crimes will never do them again."

It was at this time that Andrew began to shuffle around uncomfortably, as if his father was speaking of something he did not favor. Chris noticed this and took into account that the young man may be of some use to him later.

"So you resort to an inhuman way of punishing those who commit a small crime, such as stealing?"

"Like I said, if such a crime like stealing gets out of hand and has occurred several times, then yes, the punishment is that of hanging. You must understand, however, that we haven't killed anyone..." Michael turned around to face Chris. "Yet."

Chris shook his head and then tried to calm himself by taking a few deep breaths. "You don't understand how unethical that is!"

"Ethical?" Michael questioned. "You're questioning my ethics?" He chuckled. "I have reason to believe that you think I came up with this."

"You didn't decide on hanging?"

Michael shook his head. "No, that was the towns decision. There was the option for many other forms of punishment however, being hung seemed to sweep a liking upon them." The older man brushed his fingers across an old looking vase sitting upon a side table. He cleared his throat. "You see, Christopher. This isn't a government, nor is it a monarchy. The people want what they want. I just oversee it all and assure that it doesn't get out of hand."

"So that's what you're going to do to Wesker... isn't it?"

The older man shrugged lightly. "I heard that he cannot be killed. And that is why we should fear him."

"You've heard wrong." Chris stated.

"Are you suggesting that I should hang him?"

"No." Chris glared. "No that's not what I'm saying you should do. What I'm saying is that even though he's hard to kill, he wont go down without a fight. That's just the way Wesker is." Chris clenched his hand around the holstered gun. "And if you try to take him away, he'll fight you tooth and claw until either you're bleeding to death or he is."

"Whether or not that is the case, I still insist that he be imprisoned for safety reasons. Surly you must understand that."

"I don't think he's any threat to you at this point. He's weak and he can barely hold himself up."

"That doesn't make up for the fact that he's still a dangerous man."

Chris huffed. "Just leave Wesker to me. He's not going to take into account anything you tell him to do unless he's being threatened. And even then he could still toss you and every man in this town across the room. Weak or not."

Michael nodded. "So be it. But as soon as he makes one mistake, I have to do something about him myself. It it not only I who has concern about him."

Chris stood there for a moment, having a staring match with Michael for seconds that felt like hours. Chris shook his head slightly and slammed the door behind him.

That man was now on his list. There was just something about that him that he didn't like. Something about this _place_. Whatever was swimming around in his gut would have to boil down for now. Chris had things to do, places to explore, and people to talk to. He was going to get to the bottom of this inhumane punishment one way or another. As for Wesker, he felt strange standing up for him. Almost two decades of hate and pain covered up in a sick facade of trying to "do the right thing" was beginning to come out. It was at this point that he almost brushed off the fact that his whole past was a steaming pile of shit because of Wesker. But Chris realized that he wasn't doing this for Wesker. He was doing this for Claire. He watched her struggle for eleven long years and he wasn't about to watch her struggle again. Especially with Kaya being sick. With the cold of morning still biting, Chris decided to go visit Claire at the hospital. She had stayed there last night, falling asleep next to Kaya who now had proper treatment. It seemed as though a heavy load had been lifted from his sisters shoulders. There was no longer the worry getting her somewhere warm and safe. They were at that warm and "safe" place now. He discerned the fact that there were others here, just like them. Survivors of the atrocities outside these towering walls.

Walking heavily, Chris' eyes flicked back and forth. Picking up small details that would otherwise go unnoticed. The way that trees drooped languidly, as if they were dying. The way the door guards shuffled aimlessly as though they had nothing to say or do. The most noticeable thing, to Chris that is, were small stains on the cobblestone path that he was walking on. They were drops of something dark and looked somewhat aged. If he had to say, at least three weeks ago. Bending down to inspect the stains that trailed in every which way, Chris' brow knitted as he realized that this was blood. There were droplets of it all over this part of the path. Then, as he followed it upwards, the droplets turned into swipes, as if someone was dragged as they were bleeding out.

Michaels words rang in his ears. _"We haven't killed anyone..."_

This was obviously a lie for there was no way in hell that these paths were here before the settlement was built. Brushing his fingers over the wide stains once more, Chris sighed and scratched his oncoming beard. "I'll have to get Rebecca to come take a look at this..."

Rising up, Chris blurted a profanity as there was someone standing right in front of him, catching him off guard and causing him to backpedal a few steps. Chris' head shot up and he frowned.

Wesker stood sternly, his eyes looked heavy. "Is that blood?" He asked quietly.

Chris nodded as if he was receiving orders. "Yeah... I just saw it as I was walking to see Claire."

Wesker bent down, wincing as his muscles strained to upkeep his body weight. His movements were slow and sluggish, what Chris could guess pain shooting through every limb and every nerve. It was, however, subtle. No one could guess that sickness had taken over him, maybe just a few sore muscles. He was getting pale, skin just shades away from white. Eyes were dull, they now lacked the red burst and luster. It was certainly beginning to show and Chris knew that it was only a matter of time until he was either completely useless or dropped dead.

"Tell me, Christopher," Wesker began, rising back up to his full height, wiping his hand onto his slacks. "What we're you and Michael speaking of this morning?"

"How did you know about that?"

Wesker shook his head. "I know nothing of what you two spoke of, that is why I asked. However, I did see you banging on the front door like a idiot."

Chris rolled his eyes. "I asked him why he had a gallows set up in the middle of the damned town."

"Yes." Wesker agreed. "I did notice that earlier." Wesker squinted in that direction. "And what did he tell you exactly?"

Chris shook his head. "A bunch of bible-thumping bullshit."

Wesker chuckled. "Yes. I've noticed that the majority of the townsfolk believe in such a deity."

Chris' expression went stoic then, as he proceeded to tell Wesker of his upcoming issue. "He and I talked about you."

Wesker turned to face the younger man. "What did he say?"

Chris huffed shook his head again for what seemed like the hundredth time today. "He told me that those gallows are for criminals. Punishing those who commit certain crimes... no matter the severity. I asked him if that was what he was gonna do with you."

Wesker raised his blonde eyebrows. "And?"

"And he said he heard that you can't be killed. I reformed that myth but I told him that even though you can be killed, you wont go down without a fight. You'll claw your way out of there." Chris crossed his arms, gazing down at the bloodstains on the path. "So then I told him that imprisoning you would be useless. You're weak and really wouldn't put up a fight."

"Thanks." Wesker stated blatantly sarcastic.

Chris' finger shot out and poked the older man in the chest. "Hey! I just defended you from a psychotic demagogue who wants to hang everyone in sight!"

Wesker's expression turned into a sickening grimace as his eye went down to the finger prodding his chest. In less than a second, Wesker's hand struck out, gripping Chris' wrist and twisting his arm behind his back. He slammed Chris down onto the solid path, his jaw impacting with the ridged rocks.

"I don't need your help." Wesker seethed. "If you think that defending me is going to uplift everything that I harbor towards you, you are wrong. If only you could open your eyes to the idiocy that you are displaying."

Chris growled, shifting his body under the sheer weight of Wesker's submission. His elbow digging into his shoulder blade, and one arm twisted behind his back tightly.

"You are a sorry sack of _shit_, Wesker." Chris spat, his words muffled by the ground. "If you think that I'm gonna help you now you're wrong. So bite me, Wesker."

Wesker roared, his anger boiling up all the way. Kicking Chris in the side, the younger man was shoved about thirty yards away, the sheer force of the kick made Chris hack and gulp for air. He looked up, the mundane shine of the sun behind clouds making him squint. His vision was blurred, still dazed from the blow. Chris could see Wesker's obscured silhouette stalking towards him like an predator. He grabbed Chris by his throat, lifting him into the air. Chris grabbed Wesker's wrists, trying to pry him off of him, but to no avail. So instead, his swung all his weight into his legs, kicking Wesker directly in the chest, sending him to his back.

Chris grabbed his gun from the holster and pointed it right in between Wesker's eyes. "Don't!" He shouted. "One more step and I'll blow you're fucking brains out." His hands were shaking and he was disoriented. "I am so sick of you pulling all of this bullshit on me and my family. You have no right, as a matter of fact, you never had a right." There was sweat beading down his forehead now, the gun seemed as if it weighed a ton. "I should just save you the trouble and kill you right here."

Wesker stood rooted, his hands raised slightly. "Go ahead."

Chris' breath was coming shorter and shorter. He could feel a pain in his chest well up, his ribs were on fire, right where Wesker kicked him. "I'm not kidding, Wesker!"

"Nor am I."

"Chris! What are you thinking?" Jill's voice cut in and Chris' head shot to his left where Jill was running up. "Give me that!" She snatched the gun from him and palmed her hand onto his forehead. "You're burning up..." She looked to Wesker who still stood sternly. "Did you find him like this?"

Wesker shook his head. "No."

Jill slung Chris' arm over her shoulder.

"He initiated a fight that he knew he could not win."

"You know he's exhausted right?"

"And so am I. More so than him."

Jill eyed Wesker one last time before she began to drag Chris to the hospital.

"I would advise that you control your boyfriend, Miss Valentine. We wouldn't want this happening again." Wesker raised his voice.

XXXXX

Claire watched the rain hit the glass panels of the window. The subtle and consistent beats of Kaya's heart monitor almost lulling her into a trance. With the sound of the rain and the monitor, Claire could have sworn she was in a meditative state.

Looking out the window, her head in her hand, Claire's body perked up when she saw Wesker walking back towards the hospital. He went out for some air earlier. A moment later he knocked lightly on the door and Claire invited him in quietly.

Like always, his movements were slow. Something that Claire still found odd for he was manufactured to be the greatest preforming machine.

"Hi." Claire said softly.

Wesker nodded and smiled a little. "Hello."

"Did you see them?"

Wesker bowed his head, indicating that he knew what she was talking about.

"Are they going to hang you, Albert?"

"No."

Claire turned to the window again and her body language turned from idle to a pathetic slump. Her head was in her arm and the sound of the rain filled the small room. That was it. The only sound was the small droplets of water hitting the glass, like a distant memory trying to get through the solid protection of the pane.

"I wont let them."

The gallows creaked in the distance, one rope swung steadily back and forth. The rain dripped from the bottom of the loop and the seemingly old wood darkened with every minute it was left to soak in the pour.

Waiting composed for its first sufferer.

**A/N: Hello! I wrote this chapter in 2 days! Usually it takes me almost a month! And it's 8 pages! Well college rules and I love it! So now that my schedule is more open and free to do my own thing, I can get these things done quicker and more frequently. But I wanna give a shout out to you guys, for sticking with me! Thank you so very much! Love you guys!**


	41. Fear Of The Unknown

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

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><p><strong>Guys! You don't even know how excited I am to write this chapter! I just have so many ideas flowing right now!<strong>

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><p><em><strong>aquacrow: Welcome! Enjoy your stay :)<strong>_

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 41: Fear of the Unknown<strong>

Darkness had fallen upon the small community of Eden. All was quiet. There were no animals, except for the rare bellow from a cow. There were no cars, no chatter. Not a sound disrupt the night that had overcome this small sanction.

Claire was wide awake. She was slouched in a chair next to her daughters bed. Something had woken her. A sound of dragging and moaning, the very sounds that haunted her dreams. The undead were reaping their boney fingers through her consciousness, something she thought she could rid herself of. The creeping darkness of the room infected her eyes, causing ominous shadows to dance on the walls. She wondered if the sounds she had heard were real, or if they were just the phantom calls of her past.

Opening the door to the room quietly, Claire padded out, looking either way in the hall for others. There was no one. The hall was almost pitch black. The front door was in her sights, but it was past curfew. Everyone had to be inside by dark and it was well past midnight. Claire wrapped her jacket tighter around her slimming frame. Opening the front double doors, the cold hit her like a wave, slamming into her. She shivered audibly and rubbed her hands together. Scanning the desolate court, Claire blinked softly, eyes wandering up and down, left and right. The faint sound of wind washed through her ears and her eyes began to adjust to the dark. There was, however, a full moon and it bathed the center of the town quite fully. The slight creak of the gallows made her shiver. She looked that mediaeval contraption and swore its name into the dirt. How could they possibly persuade a whole town of innocent people that hanging criminals was ethical? However, Claire thought that Michael was just that type. Persuasive. He seemed as if he had a very tight hold on this place, ran it properly, and ran it efficiently. Claire sighed and shook her head. What were they going to do with Wesker? She certainly wouldn't let Michael hang him but somehow, in the very back of her mind, she knew that the absurd rules of Eden would overtake her actions to protect him.

XXXXX

His eyes were heavy. Heavy enough to weight him down completely. His steps were barely touching the hard cobblestone as he shuffled aimlessly. Bare feet contacted harshly with the seemingly ice cold ground. Breath warped into a freeform cloud of condensation, fingers going numb. Every motion felt like a stretch, every breath felt like his last, every slow blink felt like diving into pitch darkness. Goosebumps grazed his paling skin. He hadn't felt this cold in a long time.

He could feel the overwhelming presence of his brother, right behind him. Following every footstep like clockwork. His footing was silent, the constant crack of his knuckles were not of the latter. He could feel his sheer cold breath on the back of his neck. Darkness surrounding every inch of his vision. There was a beam of light the flashed into his fading amber eyes, making him squint and hold his hand up to protect them.

"You lost?" The voice asked quizzically.

"What...?"

"What's your name?"

"Wesker..."

"Thought so." The flashlight was turned off. "Do you know where you are, Mr. Wesker?"

He shook his head, trying to clear out his mind. "Yes." Wesker said quietly.

_"He has no clue."_

"Quiet!" Wesker barked.

The man with the flashlight jumped back a bit. "Who you talkin' to?"

_"He's crazy, don't worry bout him."_

Wesker whipped around and pointed. "Him! Alex!"

The guard, or that's what Wesker assumed he was, flicked on his light and shone it in that general direction. "There's no one there, pal."

Wesker ran his hands down his face and tried to breath properly. "He's right there..." He said with a shake in his voice.

The guard nodded suspiciously and motioned towards the Wesker. "Do you have a history of sleepwalking?"

Wesker turned back around to face the guard. "I'm not even sure I'm awake now."

_"You're not. This is all in your head. He's fake. This is all fake."_

"Leave me alone!" Wesker shouted grudgingly. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

The guard swallowed hard and his hands began to shake. "Why don't-" He stopped when Wesker inhaled harshly, seemingly growling as he did so. "Why don't we get you inside and into something a little warmer?"

Wesker looked down, noticing he was clad only in his blue t-shirt and black boxer-briefs.

_"I'm tellin' ya, Al. He's fake. He's just a figment of your insane imagination. He's trying to make you wake up. You don't wanna wake up do you? You like it here..."_

"I like it here..." Wesker repeated softly.

"Are you ok, Mr. Wesker? You might wanna get out of the cold soon."

He looked towards the other man who had a disturbing grin on his face, shadows danced across his features, and like a composed psychopath, he turned around, a sinister feeling in the very wake of his movements.

Wesker took one step towards the guard and brought his hand to rest against the mans chest, right over his heart. The guard was frozen, his eyes never tearing away from the large hand that sat coldly over his heart.

_"Take it."_

Those archfiend rubicund eyes rose to meet the opposite and Wesker's head tilted only slightly, like a puzzled animal, those glowing orbs squinted.

"You have heart."

_"Rip it out... Temple of Doom style."_

Wesker's fingers dug harshly into the soft flesh of his helpless sufferer. Blood pooled around his digits, soaking them. Shock had taken the voice away from the man who was at the wrong end of this psychotic act of murder. With lasting force, Wesker drove his fingers through the flesh, past the muscle, and straight to the pumping organ that was life itself. His steel grasp clamped around the beating clock and in one fluid motion, ripped it from its chords and vessels, bringing it to the surface of the earth. He held it there, eyes scanning every failing vein and every beat. That gory fluid dripped synonymously onto the cold ground. The mans lifeless body collapsed like a ton of bricks onto the path, blood accumulating into a puddle, soaking his gray shirt. Wesker dropped the heart next to its previous possessor.

"You have heart." He repeated flatly.

_"We're still trying to find him someone who's demons play well with his."_

Wesker began to shuffle back to the house he stayed in with Chris and the other guys. His finger tips trickled with the gore of his actions. He could still hear the heartbeat in his ear.

_"No luck yet."_

XXXXX

The very next morning, Wesker found himself uselessly slumped on the couch, the blood had dried on his hands but that heartbeat was still in his ears. There were bells in the distance, town hall calling the town into the courtyard. Wesker sat up, everything in his body cracking but a feeling of numbness shot through him. He put on his slacks and placed his head in his hands. Taking a deep breath, he could smell the dried blood on his skin. The smell of iron mixing with his sense taste. It was coupled with the scent of shame, something that reeked unlike any earthly smell. Standing to his final height, Wesker moved sluggishly out onto the road, watching other townspeople congregate in the circle. Michael was standing in the front with his son Andrew. Chris and the boys were eyeing the man intently from the back of the crowd.

From the amount of people, Wesker picked out Claire and his son. He made his way there and grabbed Claire by the wrist softly, turning her around.

"There you are," She sighed. "I was worried..."

Wesker looked down to his son who smiled affectionately and he returned a small grin.

"What is this all about?"

"They found a guard this morning," Claire began. "His heart was ripped out of his chest."

Wesker went still. And remembered the dried blood on his hand and hid it in his pocket. "Do they know what happened?"

Claire shook her head. "No... All's they really know is that he was dead instantly. But they don't know what got to him. The doc said that it must have taken a lot of force to do something like that." She rubbed her hand up and down her sons back as he listened to the bustle of the crowd. "Michael doesn't know if it's a monster or not... at least not yet."

Wesker gritted his teeth and he gripped Claire's shoulder.

"I-" He looked into the oceanic eyes of the woman he loved so greatly and saw all the hurt that he had piled up on her these past years. Every inner turmoil was his doing, every emotional breakdown was because of him. So why, Wesker though to himself, should he allow her to suffer? They were bound to find out who killed that poor man and it would break this woman's heart... not that he had already been doing that. More so, it would put her in more danger than he ever wished. Confession was not in Wesker's favor but if it could spare Claire's suffering then he would have to do just that.

"Albert?" She asked quietly.

"Do you love me?"

Claire's eyes turned quizzical. "Yeah but... what's going on?"

"Then I'm sorry."

Wesker detached himself from her and turned his back, walking to the front of the crowd where Michael stood, assessing his people and their questions.

"Albert!" Claire attempted to reach for him but he was already being sucked into the crowd. She looked down to her son who was talking to Jill.

"Jill can you keep an eye on Patrick please?"

The older woman nodded. "Sure but what's up?"

"I think something's wrong."

Claire pushed her way through the crowd, spouting apologies as she bumped into others. Breaking into the front, she saw Wesker speaking to Michael quietly. She could only watch as the older mans eyes squinted and he nodded slightly.

"Everyone please! Settle yourselves!" He shouted to the crowd. "I know you all have many, many questions, however, our friend here has something to say."

Wesker's eyes scanned every inch of the crowd and examined every soul within it. There were all different kinds of people before him. Young, old, brave, and frightened. So many tortured with the thought of what was really out there. The mumbling of company before him became silent and with a breath taken from the fresh air of the foggy morning, Wesker started...

"I killed that man."

The throng of faces began to rumble as the sound turned from a mutter to a shout. Michael stood and watched the inevitable. He knew. He always knew.

Wesker looked down at Claire who's eyes were swimming with raw dejection and without blinking, a single tear staggered down her cheek. He watched her turn her back and aimlessly push herself back through the crowd without a second glance.

The last thing he saw was his face connecting with the solid form of the ground.

All was black. But he could still hear that heartbeat in his ears.

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this one is a little shorter but my back hurts and I'm lazy! But if your a hannibal fan, then you might have noticed that my first Wesker scene was greatly modeled after that!**


	42. Minotaur

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

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><p><strong>Where did all of you go? Have I been getting too graphic? Well no matter, I'm still gonna continue SOM cause I have tons of great ideas.<strong>

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><p><strong><em>MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: You'll just have to see what happens next! Thank you so much for reviewing :)<em>**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 42: Minotaur<strong>

**_"You've got a warm heart, you've got a beautiful brain. But it's disintegrating... from all the medicine."_**

"Can you hear me, Mr. Wesker?"

The sound of a mans voice came through however, it was heavily distorted as if he was speaking underwater.

There was a flash of light that invaded his sensitive eyes and Wesker turned his head, grimacing. His arms were raised on either side, the chains were taut and the steel was digging harshly into the skin on his wrists. Wesker's head throbbed and his muscles were straining for release.

"Do you know where you are?" The man asked.

Wesker's eyes finally focused in on the man in front of him, it was Doctor Robert, the man that helped him earlier. The cold seemed overbearing and Wesker looked down to see he was only dressed in his slacks, his shirt and shoes were absent. His bare feet were planted on the ground, his only support as his arms were chained. The room was dark and the only light was from two torches ignited at the front of the room. There were no windows and the only way out was the deadbolt locked door.

"Do you know where you are?" Robert repeated, more slowly this time.

Wesker lifted his head to meet his gaze. There was a sickening feeling that was welling up in his gut, something in the back of his head told Wesker to break these chains, kill the man in front of him, and finish off the rest of the town. But he pushed those feelings down deeper and his fiery eyes met that of Doctor Robert.

"Eden." Wesker said quietly.

Robert nodded, "Good..." He gripped one of the chains to make sure it was still intact. "Michael has asked me to evaluate you, make sure you were ready."

"Ready for what?" Wesker questioned sternly, ice in his voice.

"Your day of reckoning is here, Mr. Wesker." Robert circled around the chained tyrant. "He's going to expose you for what your truly are and then, when the whole town knows what that is, when your loved ones are disgusted with your very presence, he will continue to torture you in the name of The Lord."

"In the name of The Lord?" Wesker spat. "Surly he can't be serious?"

Robert confronted him again. "Michael is very much serious about this. The prophet, who said he was a messenger of God, told him of the future... and it came true. What's not to believe? He has many things in store for you and your friends."

"Lay a finger on them and I swear I will kill everyone in this damned town." Wesker seethed.

"But wasn't that your plan in the first place?" Robert inquired.

"No!" Wesker roared. "My intentions were never to come here and be brought to my knees." He yanked harshly on the chains that held him. "I came here to find safety for my family."

"And it seems as you have failed them."

Wesker jerked harder on his restraints but to no avail. They were thick links that were tight as a whip and his weakened state didn't help that much either. Robert's walkie-talkie buzzed and a voice came through, muffled by the constant static. He proceeded to answer, muttering something into the speaker so as to hide his words from Wesker. The doctor walked towards the door, unlatching the deadbolt and swung it open. Wesker could see Michael in the threshold with his son Andrew. The young man looked distant, ashamed almost. Wesker could see it in his eyes he did not approve of what was about to happen. Robert stepped aside, letting Michael stride into the room confidently, his son following suit.

The dark of the room was beginning to invade Wesker's vision and it seemed that every second that went by, more and more shadows crept into every corner of the room. Michael eyed Wesker smugly, that satisfied smirk was irking him to no end.

"If you're going to kill me then get it over with. I have no intentions of fighting back."

Michael chuckled. "Oh, I don't intend on killing you right now. I have something different in store." He examined the braces that were digging into Wesker's flesh, causing them to bleed. The man beckoned to his son who came forward slowly, and in his hands was a large, decapitated bulls head. Its horns were long, each horn on either side had to have measured at least twenty inches. Its eyes were hollowed out and the bottom of the head was dripping with spoiled blood and strips of rigidly cut flesh dangled there. The entire head was carved out into a makeshift mask. Andrew came forth with the disgusting crown and gripped the horns tight, his eyes averted and he took a deep breath.

"I'm... sorry, Wesker." Andrew was sincere, he really didn't want to do this and it seemed that he was in opposition of his fathers actions towards Wesker. The younger man lifted the hollowed out head above Wesker and began to lower it onto him. The horrid and overwhelming stench of blood and decay assaulted Wesker and almost made him gag. Opening his eyes, he could see through the holes that were cut from the skin. Michael was smiling sadistically and he gazed upon his dreadful creation.

"The Minotaur." Michael began. "The head of a bull and the body of a man. A powerful spectacle of a creature."

Wesker pulled at his restraints and Michael took a step back, whispering something into another mans ear. Two of the men came around the back and began to take Wesker out of his chains. Once he was on the ground, his arms dropped to his sides as if they weighed a ton each.

"This is only the beginning, Wesker." Michael pronounced.

"You're insane." Wesker asserted, his voice muffled.

"I'm only doing whats right for my people. I need to protect them. Surly you understand that?"

Wesker breathed in, his lungs seemingly filled with decay. The smell was unbearable and Wesker knew that this was just a sick form of torture that not only put Wesker in a state of displeasure, but entertained Michael. He had created he very own Minotaur. Strong and fearful, a force to be reckoned with and a force to be tamed, whipped into place.

"Take him to the square to be publicly shamed for what he did to Thomas." Michael ordered the two men. "And make sure his chains are strong enough to hold him until I think of something else."

The men roughed Wesker along, the cold barrel of their guns on his bare skin. Once outside, the gray clouds loomed overhead but the dull sun that was coming through made Wesker squint. The two men led Wesker into the square and halted there. One of them struck Wesker in the gut, causing him to fall to his knees. The bulls head was starting to stick to his skin in a revolting mixture of sweat and blood. The odor of spoiled flesh and gore was enough to make Wesker vomit. They began to chain him to the rings that were bolted into the stone, the braces lacerating his skin again.

"There," One of them began, beholding his work as he crossed his arms. "That should do it."

The other man shook his head. "That's fuckin' disgusting..."

The first one shrugged, "Eh well, Michael said he deserves it then I agree... I mean, did you see what he did to Tom?"

"Well yeah but... this is just sorta wrong to me. It doesn't feel like he's doing justice. It feels like he's torturing him just to torture him."

The other man scoffed and hit him on the shoulder. "Grow a pair, why don't ya?" He gave a tug at Wesker's chains.

"Come on, Jay... Let's get outta here." The younger one asked.

They left Wesker in the square, on his knees and chained down. His head hung and the horns almost touched the ground, blood dripping slowly onto the stone. He was defeated, set out to be publicly humiliated. Alex had planted a seed in Michaels head, causing him to brainwash himself into this idea that God was telling him what to do. That God was leading him and his town to salvation. It was a disturbing turn of events that made Wesker rethink his brothers ulterior motives. If Alex really wanted to take Wesker out, then he was sure as hell taking his time. It seemed as if he wanted to strip everything away from him first, obviously starting with his dignity.

Soon after the men had left, ice cold rain began to fall, pouring over the town like a blanket. It was beginning to get colder and colder, Wesker's breath coming through the slack jawed mouth of the bull. His neck was sore now, the weight of the horns were enough to make him collapse. In the heavy downpour, everything had grown silent. Rain slid down his body, causing his muscles to tense up.

The blood from the head dripped aimlessly from the battered nose of the animal Wesker wore upon his shoulders.

XXXXX

Claire watched as two men chained Wesker to the ground, a black bulls head sat on his shoulders. It was some kind of odd punishment that she had heard of before. When it began to pour, she watched from her window as Wesker did not falter. He sat there, on his knees, submitted onto the cobblestone square. Black clouds were rolling in fast, darkness creeping into the town. There was a gusty wind that blew about, trees swaying violently against the gale. It was mid-afternoon when the rain stopped and Wesker had not moved an inch. Her legs itched to move towards the door but she couldn't give in just yet. Whatever overcame him the other night must had peeled back the defenses in his head because Claire had not seen Wesker kill like that in a long time. He ripped a mans heart from his chest, the veins still pumping, the blood still flowing. She had seen his mental state deteriorate over the past few days but she hadn't expected him to give in so easy to his animalistic natures.

"Did you see him out there?" Claire flinched at the sound of Chris' voice. He stood in the doorway, his arms crossed heavily.

She only nodded, acknowledging his question. "It's disgusting." Claire muttered.

"I didn't think Michael would treat him any differently."

"Why doesn't he just kill him?" Claire asked softly, wondering why she was allowing herself to ask such a question.

Chris shrugged and stood next to her at the window, looking out to Wesker who was still unmoved. "I don't know," He started. "Maybe he's just toying with him." Chris ran a hand across his jaw. "Whatever he has planned, I don't think it'd be a good idea for us to interfere until it gets outta hand. This is his town and these are his rules."

Claire bit her tongue, her brother was right. Defending Wesker would only get him into more trouble and potentially exclusion from Eden, which, at this point, they couldn't afford. Right now, all's they could do was watch and wait. Wesker was on his own, as much as Claire hated to say it. She needed to focus on getting help for her daughter and like Chris said, rules were rules. Michael was the governor and they were his citizens.

XXXXX

Throughout the remainder of the day, Wesker was being harassed by the townspeople. Some would pass and spit on him, others would physically harm him. Children would walk by with their mothers only to be tugged away, being told that they shouldn't get too close. He had shallow stab wounds all over his chest and shoulders, bruises on his ribs, and scratches down his back. However, it was dark now, past curfew he assumed and the town was now asleep. The rain has stopped a few hours ago, leaving a cold fog in its wake. Wesker's slacks were torn in the knees, blood soaking around there. His bare feet were blistered and red. Exposed to the elements and exposed to anger, his body was weak. He only wished for sleep but knew it was impossible. The chains that clung to him felt as if they weighed a ton, his arms weak and neck cramped. The bulls head was now finished bleeding out, all that remained was the horrid smell that clung to him.

He heard footsteps approach him but he didn't bother lifting his head.

"Albert..."

His shoulders perked up and he averted his eyes to see who was before him. Claire stood there, she looked exhausted, her hair was down and tousled, she was wearing jeans and a baggy sweatshirt. There were bags under her eyes and her complexion was paling. She knelt down in front of him and grabbed the horns of the severed bulls head, pulling it off of Wesker. He sucked in a breath of fresh, night air, closing his eyes, he relished in the scent of the pines and of the fog. Claire grabbed the rag she had with her and gently began wiping blood away from his face. His eyes were closed and he continued to hang his head.

"Albert look at me." Claire asked him quietly but assertively.

He did as he was asked, lifting his head to face her, opening his amber eyes. She continued to wipe the blood from his features, never breaking eye contact with him. When she was finished, she held his face in her hands and kissed him softly.

"I will _always_ love you, goddamnit." She said through her teeth, chocking on a sob. "Don't you ever think that I don't."

Wesker nodded once, making an agreeable rumble in his chest. Their foreheads were pressed together, eyes closed, breath in sync.

"I'm gonna get you out of this." Claire said sternly.

"No." Wesker retorted. "I can't defy Michael. He's been washed out by Alex."

Claire drew back and her face twisted into confusion. "Then what?"

"I have to face my brother... and one of us will celebrate becoming an only child."

"I know you can overcome that bastard." Claire seethed. "He's nothing more than a coward, hiding in the shadows."

"We'll see about that." Wesker sighed. "He's already proven he's stronger than me but there has to be something I can do to prevail over him." He shook his head, pondering on what would make his brother fall to his knees. He was indeed a worthy adversary.

Claire kissed the cheek and then his lips. "I have to go..." She said quietly.

"I love you." Claire uttered, barely audible.

Wesker nodded, smirking in the dark. "I know."

He watched her disappear in the fog, his skinny love. He welled up with anger, despising the fact that his brother was considerably one step ahead of him. He couldn't deny that Alex was a smart man, he was, after all, raised by Spencer. Now that the old fool was dead, Alex seemingly wandered about searching for a cause until he heard rumors of his older brother rising through the ranks.

The cold crept around him, as if the ghost of his deranged brother was standing beside him. Soon, black and red would inevitably collide, who would come out the victor was to be determined when either was dead on the ground. It would be a battle of wits, strength, and judgement.

Theseus, a conniving warrior who sought to rid the world of social order.

The Minotaur, a beastly creature that dwelled at the center of a labyrinth.

Destined to meet, destined to engage in the eternal struggle. Godlike beings throwing down their defenses to expose one another.

"There can only be one..." Wesker seethed. His words lost in the dark.

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm down to like, one of you! Where did you all go? Well, leave a review, it really helps me out big time!**


	43. Medicine

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE**

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><p><strong>I'm just pumping these out right now! I used to take forever now I just have a really good drive.<strong>

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><p><strong><em>Bloody Raptor: Thank you! I just wanted that moment to be pity and love because they really do love each other and at this point in time, there's nothing either of them can do.<em>**

**_MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: Thank you :)_**

**_littlevamp: Thank you so very much! Words like yours keep me going. I would love to have you stick around and review again :)_**

**_Guest: You know, I didn't really think Highlander when I wrote that line… and I'm not sure if your review means well or if you're criticizing me. Either way, thank you for reading._**

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><p><em><strong>I<strong>__**'**__**ve been traveling but I don**__**'**__**t know where. I**__**'**__**ve been missing you, but you just don**__**'**__**t care. And I**__**'**__**ve been wandering, I**__**'**__**ve seen Greece and Rome. Lost in the wilderness, so far from home.**_

**Chapter 43: Medicine**

The town hall was bustling with noise. Every member of Eden was present, even the children. Michael and Andrew were at the front of the room, whispering something back and forth. The townspeople were here to discuss what they should do to Thomas' killer.

Michael cleared his throat, the echo gaining the attention of the room. He smiled towards them and they settled.

"I'm sure you all know of the horrible fate of Thomas and I'm also sure you all know that the man chained out there is his murderer." He paused for a moment, eyeing the crowd. "I've called you all here today to suggest what punishment is suitable for Mr. Wesker."

Andrew shuffled in front of his father and played with his hands nervously. "But we should all take into account that he has a family..." The crowd murmured and some of them nodded in agreement.

Michael slapped a hard hand on his sons shoulder and squeezed it warningly, "Thomas had a family as well, Andrew."

A man from the assembly rose from his chair. "He should be punished accordingly!" He shouted, the people shouting in agreement.

Andrew intervened "People! Please calm down! We need to discuss this like a civilized court!" The congregation calmed slightly but a subtle murmur continued. "Mr. Wesker said he didn't remember killing Thomas and who's to say that he did?" Andrew pointed into the crowd to an older woman who had been silent for the duration of the meeting. "Amanda said that she saw Wesker sleepwalking that night."

Amanda nodded. "I did," she started. "He looked very transfixed, like he wasn't aware of what he was doing. He stopped in the square and just stood there until Tom came up to him and flashed a light in his eye." The woman shook her head. "I saw the whole thing from my window and when Tom shone the light in Wesker's eyes, he looked like he snapped him out of a trance."

"You see?" Andrew chided. "Mr. Wesker was unaware of what was going on, therefore we have no right to punish him! Sleepwalking is a normal habit and can cause normal people to do very strange things!"

"He killed a man!" Someone shouted.

The citizens erupted in agreement. They began to yell out punishments; hanging, shooting, torture... Michael watched as his son tried to pacify the mass of angry individuals. Whether or not the court made a decision, Michael had many things in store for Wesker. He didn't plan on letting him off this easy.

"That monster killed my husband!" Louise, Thomas' wife stood from her seat with their three month old child in her arms. "Now my boy has to grow up without a father..." She looked out the window where Wesker was helplessly knelt on the ground. "Michael you have to do something. I'm begging you..."

Michael nodded. "I assure you, Louise, I will. But right now we have to manage a punishment for Mr. Wesker. His deed will not go without proper justice."

"What of the prophet?" Louise asked. "Did he instruct how to handle him?"

Michael shook his head. "No he did not but perhaps he will come through again and then we can ask him."

"You think he'll return?" The young woman inquired.

Michael sighed and spoke calmly. "I'm not sure… but no matter. This town will find a way to punish the sinner that Satan has landed us with."

XXXXX

"Well, well, well…" That voice taunted. "Would you look at what we have here?"

Wesker groaned, his head lifting to face his mocker. The bulls head was lying discarded on the ground, flies were beginning to swarm around its mouth and hollowed out sockets.

"Alex." He seethed through bloody teeth. Wesker wrenched the chains strenuously, making them creak in a metallic dull tone.

"The one and only." The younger Wesker sneered, taking a little bow. He was dressed in a black suit, his red tie sticking out against the dark color. He was the devil incarnate, walking upon the earth. If only Michael knew.

"I will_ kill_ you." Wesker ground out, his anger simmering right through him. "I swear I will."

Alex circled his brother, eyeing the bulls head intently. Picking it up by one of the horns, his face scrunched up in disgust.

"Medieval." Alex declared. "I like it." He dropped the carcass on the ground once more and pulled a red handkerchief from his breast pocket. He wiped his hands unconsciously and when he was finished, he tucked it back into its rightful place.

"If Chris sees you…" Wesker began, standing on his bare feet. He was weak, he hadn't stood straight for almost two days. His back cracked, as did he knees. Wesker craned his neck from side to side, relishing in the slick snap. "He'll kill you before I can."

Alex wasn't paying any mind to his brother, instead he continued to pace, looking about the town curiously. He gazed down to his hand, inspecting his finger nails.

"You know," Alex began, "You really should stop putting faith into others." He approached his brother and smirked wickedly. "Loyalty. Highly overrated."

Wesker kept a keen eye on his brother, he seemed stronger than the last time they encountered. His build was tight, his posture was stiff, and the very way he carried himself spoke true to the fact that he was an entirely different species. In fact, they both were. Every movement was acute and direct, like an incision. The tone he spoke in was mocking yet deliberate, he was trying to taunt the animal that buried itself deep in his older brother.

Alex held up a finger, halting whatever Wesker was about to say. He dug around in the inside of his jacket, revealing a syringe with a sinister black liquid as its contents.

"Here we are." Alex began wrapping the syringe in a leather cloth and he gently sat it down before Wesker with a small piece of card stock propped up against the package.

"What is that?" Wesker demanded sternly.

"A gift."

"You are a horrible display for a liar"

"And so was father." Alex declared harshly. "Connecting any dots these days, brother?"

"Plenty." Wesker sneered.

"I should be on my way," Alex perked. "I have a few more things to attend to before I return to claim your head."

"Then you're in for a rude awakening." Wesker growled.

Alex raised a blond eyebrow. "Oh am I?" He asked smugly.

The two, seemingly immortal brothers shared steely, unwavering eye contact. Alex was wearing that self-satisfied grin, while Wesker's look was that of stone. Seething red met amber cores. They stood, rooted in their solid states. Six foot three sized up six foot. No amount of muscle twitched, no falter in their austere lock of fixated leering. Alex took a step back, chuckling at his brothers undisclosed incompetence.

"Farewell, Albert." He remarked. "Until next time." With an ironic and courteous bow, Alex turned his back. Wesker watched him leap over the forty-foot walls as if they were mere hurdles.

XXXXX

Michael, who was joined by Andrew and Dr. Robert, exited the town hall after the bustle of people had finally shuffled out. He watched them, as they wandered back to their homes or posts. He then noticed Wesker, who was standing tall, glaring at the occasional passerby. They treated him like a dog, Michael didn't expect them to treat him any differently. This whole town was now against the monster that could tear mens hearts from their chests. The men walked upon him, Wesker's eyes averting right to Michael.

The older man bent down, picking up the wrap of leather with the note. He eyed it curiously and unraveled its contented.

"What is it?" Andrew asked quietly.

"The note just says 'medicine.'" Robert inquired.

Michael peered at the syringe loaded with a blackish liquid. What could that note possibly mean to him? Obviously, whoever left it here was going to stay anonymous. However, Michael wondered if the young prophet had come back to propose a solution to his current quandary.

"Who put this here?" Michael asked sternly.

Wesker did not answer at first, he simply stood rooted like a statue to his spot. Contemplating on what he should reply with, Wesker was in between a rock and a hard place.

"Answer me." Michael demanded loudly.

"I don't know." He responded cooly.

"You didn't see anyone?" Robert butted in.

Wesker turned his head to the side, glaring the sharpest of daggers through the doctor. "No. I didn't see who it was. I must have fallen asleep momentarily."

"Maybe we shouldn't give it to him." Andrew spoke, breaking the silence. "I mean… if it says medicine then maybe whatever it is, would heal him up." The younger man flicked his eyes to Wesker, making contact with him he gave a slight nod and Wesker returned the almost unnoticeable gesture. The boy was obviously trying to help. Whatever his father had planed, Andrew did not seem in favor for it. He even tried to defend him during the meeting. Whatever Andrew had up his sleeve, if it was anything at all, Wesker would take and run with. He needed every chance that was handed to him.

Michael took into account of his sons words however, he continued gazing at the needle as if he wanted nothing more than to stab Wesker in the neck.

"Medicine or not," Michael started. "Whoever left it here left it with a certain intention." He turned to Wesker who gave him a threatening look. "It was intended for Mr. Wesker." Michael approached the beaten and false god, watching his chest heave with absolute anger. The heat that, surprisingly, still radiated off of his skin, was enough to make water boil. Those fiery orbs glowered, flicking in every direction Michael moved, watching his every menacing step. Without a warning, Michael's right arm shot out and grabbed a fistful of Wesker's hair, craning his neck to the side to expose a ridged vein that snaked under the surface of his burning skin. He then used the other hand to cruelly sink the needle into that vein, pushing down on the plunger and releasing the horribly black liquid into Wesker's bloodstream.

"So let's see what this does…" Michael muttered to himself. "Harm or heal."

With nothing more than a groan, Wesker could feel the effects take over in mere seconds. He felt lightheaded, his vision was beginning to falter, everything looked as if it was being shaken by an earthquake. Muscles were weak, hearing fading in and out, the very tips of his fingers starting to numb. He could see Michael standing before him, a smug grin that Wesker was all too familiar with was wiped across his features. As if he was submerged underwater, Wesker could have sworn he heard Chris' bellowing voice. He squinted and sure enough, it was him, jogging over to Michael with Claire in tow.

"What's the matter with him?" Chris demanded. "His veins are black as hell…"

Michael shrugged, as did Robert. "We came to speak with him and he was showing odd symptoms like these." The doctor began. "Blackening veins, heavy breathing, what have you."

Michael nodded in false agreement, tucking the syringe in his back pocket. Claire, who managed to push herself in front of the men, was quickly at Wesker's side, holding his head in her hands. She lifted it to face her but his eyes were screwed shut in pain. Claire gripped either side of his face harder, rubbing her thumbs across his cheeks, whispering something to him.

"You need to get him help." Chris shot.

Michael shook his head. "That is out of the question." He retorted. "He doesn't deserve it after what he did to Thomas."

Chris ran a hand through his hair. "Is this another one of God's acts?" He bellowed. "Or is this just torture like the bulls head?"

"I have to keep my people safe." Michael cried. "Surly you must understand that! You have your people and I have mine, Christopher, we are two sides of the same coin and with a common enemy."

Chris huffed and clenched his jaw, trying not to swallow the words that were coming next. "Wesker is not my enemy." He said quietly but sternly. "That's in the past. He doesn't deserve this and he certainly doesn't deserve to be chained up like a god damned animal!"

"I can't help you." Michael voiced.

Claire, who was completely oblivious to the arguing men behind her, continued to soothe Wesker the only way she knew how. She talked to him softly, planting small kisses on his forehead and lips. His head now rested heavily on her shoulder and she ran a hand though his hair, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. Wesker managed the occasional painful moan, clenching his arms even tighter around her small waist.

"Everything's gonna be ok, Albert… I promise." Claire rubbed small circles on his back which seemed to calm his overheating nerves. Wesker groaned painfully, his body falling into Claire like a ton of bricks. His arms dropped as his entire body went limp.

"Albert…" Claire muttered. She gave him a light shake as she tried to hold all 172 pounds of him. When there was no bodily response nor verbal, Claire heaved him up, shaking him harder. "Albert!" His eyes were closed and there were small trickles of blood coming from the corner of his mouth.

"Chris!" The younger Redfield shouted, turning her head to look over her shoulder. Chris was there in two long strides, grabbing Wesker's other side, hauling his slacking and fatigued form unto his shoulder.

Claire and Chris started working on his chains, Chris using a pick on one of the shackles. Meanwhile, Michael just watched. Watched as they struggled to aid their friend. Whatever he had administered into Wesker's system, it was hitting him hard. It only took ten seconds for his body to react, shutdown, and give up. Whether this was a gift from God or some other force that saw their common enemy, Michael would let this one roll out the red carpet.

When the chains were finally off, the Redfields started dragging him back to the house they stayed in. Chris kicked down the door after shouting to Barry to ready some water. Once they were in the living room, they laid Wesker down on the couch, his tall body barely fitting. Chris and Barry were in the kitchen, rummaging through supplies. Claire knelt down beside the couch and wiped sweat away from his forehead with a rag. Wesker made an aching groan that barely came from his throat, coming out scratched and muffled.

"Shhh…" Claire cooed. "Stay with me, hon."

She kissed his cheek, his skin burning from what she could now label a fever. The veins on his neck and chest were blackening. She knew that the longer they waited this out, the worse it would get. She had no idea what would fix him now, his body was already ruining itself from the inside out, it had been for a very long time. Now, he had to battle this horrible, black plague-like infection.

"Stay with me…" She repeated quietly. "Please…"

**A/N: Helloooooo! I hope you enjoyed this chap, it actually took me a little effort to start this one, I was kind of stuck. But, I read around a little and got some motivation. So, let us recap this chapter because a lot of things happened! The town had a meeting to discuss how they should punish Wesker and Andrew stood up for him! Trust me, you're gonna start to like Andrew more. Alex has reared his head, making a fool out of his brother just doesn't seem to be enough! He leaves Michael a little gift and Michael takes "advantage" of that gift! What will happen next in the upcoming chapter of Shadow Of Me? Leave a review, it really helps me out :)**


	44. Alliance

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

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**Ayyyyyyyeeeee! How you guys doing? I hope you're doing well and I hope that the approaching days and weeks will be good too :)**

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_**littlevamp: Thank you for all your kind words!**_

_**bloody raptor: Here you go!**_

_**MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: You know cliffhangers are my specialty!**_

_**Haveyouseenmyghost: We talked :) and I just want to thank you again for your input and how kind you were about it. You didn't beat around the bush and that's what I found sincere in what you had to say. I hope you keep reading and, just for you, I did my homework so hopefully, I can get the characters back into the swing of things.**_

_**Sundragon: Hey there you are! I know how you feel with the whole busy schedule thing, I have one of those myself. Take your time and read up when you can. Don't feel bad :) You're watching Hannibal right now? I love that show!**_

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Chapter 44: Alliance

Incredible heat radiated from Wesker's skin as if he housed a roaring furnace within him. Claire constantly dabbed the sweat from his brow and it almost burned to touch him. It had been mere hours since Michael had injected whatever it was into his bloodstream. Claire was worried, yes, but now she wanted to get to the bottom of this. The light hadn't completely died from her just yet.

Patrick stood in the threshold of the living room, leaning his thin frame against the wall. His blue eyes heavy, the weight of the world on his shoulders. He watched his mother slave over his dying father, something that he wished he could turn away from. Even though he didn't quite understand what they had, he watched them all the time. The way they laughed at each others jokes, clung to one another as if they would drown without the latter. Patrick knew that even though years set apart their hold, years would not set apart their hearts.

Claire turned around and saw her son watching her with a subtle look of sadness in his eyes. "Pat…" She began, rising to her feet tiredly. "You should go to sleep, ok?"

The boy nodded as his mother rustled his hair.

"Come on, sweetie."

Claire tucked her son in on a cot upstairs. "I actually need you to get some sleep tonight, Patrick." She chided the boy.

"I don't know why I can't, mom…"

Claire only sighed and brushed some hair from his forehead. "There's just been a lot going on, I know but you need some shuteye and I mean it."

Patrick nodded and Claire kissed his forehead. "Love you."

"Love you too, mom."

She made her way out of the room and shut the door softly. Leaning up against the wall, Claire signed heavily. She found herself doing that more and more these days. Chris was at the bottom of the stairs and beckoned to her with a subtle tilt of his head.

"What's up?"

Chris crossed his arms and shook his head. "This doesn't look good, sis. This doesn't look good at all." The older Redfield dropped his arms to his sides and shrugged. "I don't know what to tell ya, Claire."

She was taken back a little by what he had said. She knew it wasn't good, for christ sake, she knew it from the start and she didn't need or want to be reminded. "Look, Chris, I can take care of Albert. You don't need to worry about it, I have it all under control."

Chris rose an eyebrow. "Oh do ya? Because last I checked, you let him get away with a steaming pile of bullshit for eleven years."

"Don't…" Claire hissed. "That is none of your business." Her eyes averted into the living room where she could see Wesker curled up like a child, his shirt soaked with sweat, lungs heaving for air.

"It's in the past… I was young—"

"And stupid."

Claire paused for a moment. "I was young and stupid, yes. But now is probably the worst time to guilt trip me. We have bigger things to worry about, Chris. Not only is our muscle near death, we have to find away to shove asshole out there," Claire pointed out the window to Michael's house which was directly across the road. "Out of the picture."

Chris nodded. "I'll talk to Michael tomorrow."

There was then a knock on the door, rapid and rushed. Chris pulled his gun from its holster, turning off the safety. He gave Claire a nod and took slow steps towards the door, gun raised. It was dark outside and Chris couldn't see who was at the door. The knocks now came quicker.

"Who's there?"

"It's Andrew!"

Chris huffed and opened the door, the younger man holding his hands up in surrender.

"What do you want?" Claire seethed.

"Yeah," Chris growled, pointing his gun to Andrew. "What _do _you want?"

"I don't want trouble, Chris." He spoke lowly.

"Tell that to him," Chris nodded his head towards Wesker's form on the couch.

"I didn't have anything to do with what my father did to Wesker."

"Bull…" The older Redfield snapped.

"I swear, ask him." Andrew nodded towards the living room.

Chris' eyes were locked in a hard glare, knuckles were white around his gun. Everywhere he turned something bad was happening and even though he tried, he couldn't try his best. Trust had been thrown out the window and now what was left was nothing short of trepidation.

"Alright," Chris stated. "I will." Lowering his gun, Chris gave one glance over his shoulder back to Andrew who stood with a slight anxious lean to him, as if he was ready to spring away at any time. It reminded Claire, who was watching his every move, of a deer. Timid and fragile. Not really broken until a hunters track. And when broken, either beaten or lucky.

Chris nudged Wesker in the shoulder with the barrel of his gun. "Wesker wake up." He commanded lowly. "I need to ask you something."

The older man groaned and recoiled a bit at the cool metal against his shirt. "What…" he breathed. "What do you want?"

With movements as slow as the walkers outside, he sat up, rubbing his hands up and down his arms, trying to generate some friction for his cold flesh. Chris could see the weakness on him. Eyes were dull, no red glow, his skin was pale, prickling with goosebumps. His seemingly tall and figured form was frail, unable to reestablish itself.

"Andrew," Chris started. "What did he do to you?"

There was a pause, it seemed as if Wesker didn't fully register what Chris had said.

"He's not the problem, Christopher." Wesker breathed. "He has nothing to do with this."

Andrew, who overheard their conversation, let loose a breath that he had been holding for who knows how long. That timidness went away immediately and something perhaps like pride returned.

Wesker stood to his height, wincing when his back and knees cracked simultaneously. Claire was at his side, muttering something into his ear that made him close his eyes for a brief moment, as if he was relishing in her voice. He seemed somewhat relieved. Claire's hand pressed itself against his chest, supporting him a little. As much as Wesker hated to admit it, he could hardly stand and what little strength he had left, he was using it to bail this kid out.

"He's loyal." Wesker stated firmly, yet with a hint of respect and a little smirk.

"Thank you, Mr. Wesker." Andrew bowed his head a little, obviously beholden to be in his presence. "I'm only here to help."

"Then you can help us fight your fuckin' insane pops." Chris voiced.

Andrew shook his head. "No, not fight. We can't fight him but we can push him."

"Go on." Wesker remarked.

"My father is scared. He's not scared of you," He pointed to Chris. "And he's not scared of you either," he said pointing to Claire. "But he _is _scared of you." His eyes fell upon Wesker. "Very scared."

"And how are we gonna use that to our advantage if the guy can hardly stand on his own?" Chris blurted.

"He doesn't need to do anything to harm anyone." Andrew replied. "You know… before all this shit it the fan, I was a student studying psychology at Berkeley."

Wesker chuckled, as if nostalgia hit him upside the head. "Birkin studied there…" He muttered to himself, his gaze falling on the ground for a moment, trying to shove those memories back. Claire rubbed small circles on his back, knowing that his old friend was a sore subject.

"And one of the things I learned was that humans are afraid of one another no matter the circumstances. Whether you've known a man for years or for minutes, always, somewhere in the back of our minds is what would that person be able to do to me? Historically, there have been two main approaches to conceptualizing interpersonal trust." Andrew pointed to Chris. "He doesn't trust Wesker but he trusts you because he thinks you and him have a common enemy. So what does that entail?"

"A cognitive process." Wesker answered.

Andrew nodded. "Exactly."

Chris waved his hand towards the younger man impatiently. "Alright cut to the chase, Sherlock."

"Trust between Michael and Wesker has been generated but not sustained, obviously. _But_trust between Michael and you, Chris, has been generated and sustained. So now we have to take it one more step."

"And that step would be?"

"Acceptance. You have to get in there and learn more about him. Get under his skin. However, there are plenty of critical factors that you have to involve and that I have to teach you."

"I don't have time to play student and professor!" Chris yelled. "I need to shove that asshole off his high horse_ right _now!"

"With that attitude you're not going to get far, now are you?" Wesker mocked.

"Hey!" Chris turned to Wesker. "I'm doing this for you!"

Wesker smiled wolfishly. "Well I am flattered, Christopher but I'm afraid my heart belongs to someone else."

"Knock it off you two." Claire dejected, lightly smacking Wesker on his shoulder.

"Are you done?" Andrew questioned. Chris only huffed, turning back to face the younger man. "Ok as of late, there's not much you and I can do but learn and wait. But you have to understand one thing right now, Chris." Andrew's expression became solid. "This _has _to be interpersonal for you and him. You have to convince him that you are on his side. Otherwise, this wont work. My father isn't an idiot but he his is somewhat easily inattentive."

Chris nodded sternly. Taking dire orders was like clockwork for him now.

"In order for this to advance, we have to force that trust to emerge and to be maintained."

"Understood." Chris declared.

"And as for you," Andrew pointed to Wesker. "He's not expecting you to get up so easily. So I have to ask you to play this off for a little longer. Stay away from him, whatever you do. He's not here to harm anyone else but you."

Wesker nodded. The boy was certainly brilliant and loyal, just like Wesker predicted. He wasn't about to sit down and watch his deranged father torture a man he hardly knew.

Andrew glanced at his watch. "I have to go," He started. "I'll be back tomorrow to discuss the action. Until then, you all need to keep this to yourself. This is private matter." And with that, the young man was back through the door and into the night.

"Great," Chris drawled. "Now we have two psychos on our hands."

**A/N: Hey guys sorry for such a long wait this time around. I had to do a little leg work for this chapter as well as some character leg work. But I hope that you enjoyed this chapter and a lot of Andrew who I hope you're beginning to love if you haven't already. As always, love you guys and if you celebrate it, have a great Thanksgiving! May your bellies be stuffed with great food!**


	45. Run For Your Life

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

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**Hey guys hope your thanksgiving holiday was great and you stuffed your tummy with good food! And, for those of you who celebrate, here****'****s an early christmas gift from me. A new chapter of SOM! This one, I assure you, is going to be nice and long, trying to go for at least ten pages. Usually the chapters are around 6 or 7. Enjoy!**

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_**littlevamp: Thank you!**_

_**Spade666: That**__**'**__**s ok! I**__**'**__**m glad you**__**'**__**re enjoying SOM! Keep reading and keep reviewing!**_

_**bloody raptor: Here you are!**_

_**MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: Thanks! And here**__**'**__**s your chapter! Hope you enjoy :)**_

_**Tomoko: Hey there you are! Glad you could find the time to read and review, you know I always appreciate your kind words. And you**__**'**__**re friend should read too! Are you trying to open FF on a computer or a mobile device? Cause I might be able to help you out. **_

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Chapter 45: Run For Your Life

Wesker sat up straight on the couch, trying to stretch out his overworked muscles. There was more hustle in the town today, civilians were seemingly more comfortable knowing that the single most dangerous thing was incapacitated at the moment. Or so they though for the time being. The sun had peaked out, warming the bodies of those it greeted warmly. The sun was accompanied by a cool breeze, wafting throughout Eden as a rush of fresh air. Those who were sick were able to enjoy this beautiful weather, however, Wesker was stuck inside watching. He picked apart crowds and then picked apart people. Memorizing faces, gestures, expressions, and ticks. The way they talked, walked, smiled, and frowned. Sometimes he would single out a specific man or woman simply because he enjoyed the way their laughter sounded or liked the way they greeted others. Humbly, Wesker was beginning to feel a certain connection to every person in Eden. It seemed as if they were all put here for a reason. Whether that reason was to help Michael or not, Wesker just could not shake the feeling that there were those out there, within that very crowd, that were willing to help him.

The door to the house opened swiftly, it was Chris and Andrew deep in conversation of what Wesker could only assume was about the conspiracy about to form. They acknowledged Wesker with a nod and continued talking.

"So that's really it, Chris." Andrew began. "My father trusts you and right now, that's all that matters. We just have to get you in there and then our plan can evolve from there."

Chris nodded. "Just hope to god that this works otherwise we're gonna have to deal with two sociopaths."

"What do you mean by two?" Andrew inquired.

Chris looked to Wesker who was standing now, twisting his back from left to right. "It seems only fair to tell him."

Chris, who seemed to be a bit of discretion against the subject, exhaled slowly. "Wesker's right. It seems only fair to tell you why this is happening." Chris waited for Wesker to heighten the matter and when he didn't, Chris started again…

"This wouldn't be happening if it weren't for a single man and a single grudge. Ya see, Wesker's got a little brother. A crazy, hell-bent on killing him, little brother. The 'prophet' that oh so conveniently visited your father a day before we arrived, that was him."

"He planted the seed which has now rooted itself into the farthest corner of your fathers brain." Wesker added with a bit of disdain. "My brother, Alex is nothing more than a manipulative little brat that wants to get his way."

"Is… is he like you then?" Andrew asked with caution.

Wesker nodded. "Yes, and from what I've gathered, much stronger. He's been working hard to overcome me and I believe he may have found the secret to do just that."

"Not only do we have your pops to take out, Alex is really the bigger picture here. Without him, Michael would have never done this."

"So Alex was the one who left the syringe?" Andrew questioned.

"Yes." Wesker responded. "I'm not sure what it did to me… I don't have the time or place to sample it."

Andrew seemed taken back by Wesker's statement. "Sample it? What are you? Some kind of scientist?"

"Doctor Wesker," The older man began. "I obtained my Masters in bioengineering and PHD in virology. I worked for Umbrella Corporation right out of high school, they sent me college at Harvard for bioengineering and Baylor for virology."

"Umbrella?" Andrew gawked. "You worked for Umbrella?"

"Indeed I did." Wesker confirmed.

Chris waved his hand, clearing his throat. "Alright, alright quit your braggin."

Wesker shot Chris an icy glare and the younger man could've sworn he saw the life that used to lie there. It wasn't until Wesker hacked up a mark of blood, did Chris see that the man he once knew to be as dangerous as a thousand armies combined, was now nothing more than a shell of what he used to be.

"We have medicine…" Andrew murmured. "Some of it might be able to help you."

"I doubt it." Wesker remarked. "This," he held up his hand where the blood was now drying. "is something beyond your control. It's something that no one here will understand. Something that I don't understand myself."

"Why don't you let others help you?" Andrew cried. "Why do you hesitate to take someone's offer?"

Chris held up his hand to halt Andrew "I wouldn't—"

"Because I don't need anyone's help." Wesker barked.

Andrew took a bold step forward. "At least not until now!"

The front door to the house swung open, Jill jogged in with Claire in tow. "What the hell is going on in here?" Jill demanded.

Claire could see Wesker was heated. She knew his gestures, his signals. It certainly wasn't easy for strangers to identify what Wesker was feeling just by his body language but Claire had known that man for a _very _long time.

She approached him, placing a hand on his arm. "Albert…" he recoiled a little at her touch and Claire was hurt. There was a pang in her stomach as she watched him puff out his chest more, sizing up Andrew like an alpha wolf. Wesker was significantly taller than the younger man, at least five inches and his build outshone that of Andrew's. Sweat had been accumulating on Wesker's forehead, dripping down steadily. Fists were clenched tightly, knuckles white. But the one thing that Claire noticed out of anything else was the oddly yet brilliant burning in his titian eyes. In all her years of being with and without him, Claire had been well aware that when his eyes held a smolder as though they did now, it meant that every emotion had boiled up and taken flight.

"Albert calm down… it's ok." She regained her grip on Wesker's forearm, holding it more firmly this time in a unspeakable gesture of 'hold back'. He seemed to notice her silent plead and she could feel the muscles in his arm relax.

Wesker's eyes flashed dangerously and he extended his arm, pointing to Andrew. "Learn your place, boy." he growled.

Andrew stood his ground, he wasn't about to give up on him. They would just have to get around their differences if they wanted to survive. That's all this was now, survival. In a dog-eat-dog world like this one, you had to fight the dead and fear the living. No one was safe and nowhere was safer.

XXXXX

Claire dabbed at a cut above Wesker's eye, it was one of his deepest ones that just wouldn't heal up. He winced when she pressed a little harder, recoiling at the touch of disinfectant.

"Oh stop it, you big baby." Claire chided. "I'm almost done." She turned to soak the cloth in more warm water and then returned to cleaning up another gash on his left temple.

"Thank you…" Wesker murmured. His deep and somewhat soothing baritone voice sent chills down Claire's spine. She hadn't heard him speak so sincerely in a while, something that she really happened to appreciate.

Claire set the rag aside and shook her head, trying to disregard his thanks. There were two things things that Claire hated and two things that Wesker hated. Claire hated when he sympathized her, tried to thank her for something she could do in her sleep. And Wesker hated it when she worried about him, when she did things for him that he certainly did't deserve. Claire placed her hands on either side of his battered face, scraping her thumbs along his jaw, feeling the stubble that was there. She leaned in, kissing him on the forehead and Wesker breathed out heavily, resting his head on her shoulder. Claire embraced him, placing her arms around his neck while he squeezed his arms around her waist. They sat there for a moment, Claire rubbing circles into his back, feeling every knot that lay underneath.

Jill watched from the front door, she saw them hold each other as if they would sink away like a deadweight without the other. Wesker's face was buried into the crook of her neck and Claire soothed him by rubbing his shoulders and back. This, Jill thought, was the sight of something broken. She had never seen Wesker so domestic in fact, it almost frightened her a bit. Here she saw the most powerful man in the world, powerful by all means, clutching onto a woman who would never judge him for what he had done in the past. And even though each of them went through those elven years, each of them would lie awake at night and think of the other.

Wesker was the most complex man Jill had ever met and Claire was just as simple as she was. What attracted them together was their differences and that was something that made Jill inwardly chuckle. Claire was a freedom fighter, righteous, and just. Wesker was a terrorist, corrupt, and wicked. But it was something fateful, something that marked out what separated them. Claire was too headstrong to give up on someone and she just so happened to entertain Wesker enough for him to keep her around. That entrainment turned into something more.

"Come on," Claire whispered into his ear. "Let's go to bed." She rose and Wesker helped her pull the couch out.

She turned around to see Jill who looked as if she was beginning to leave. "Jill." Claire piped.

"Oh hey, Claire I was just checking on you like Chris asked."

"Oh," Claire breathed. "Thanks but we're fine, you can relay that info to my dumb brother." The two women chuckled. "Seriously I don't know why he thinks I can't defend myself."

"He's just being a good big brother." Jill replied. "I would kill for a brother like Chris."

"Yeah…" Claire mumbled. "I guess I'm pretty lucky to still have him."

XXXXX

He was wide awake, following the patterns on the ceiling. It was windy so the house creaked, that kept him up too. Claire was curled against his chest and occasionally, he would feel her shiver against him so he would cover her up more but every time he did so, she would kick them away twenty minutes later, mumbling something insignificant in her sleep. All of his muscles ached, his lungs burned when he breathed, and his wrists were still marked by his crude metal shackles. Aside from the wind, the night wasn't as quiet as he thought. Wesker's hearing had not quit just yet and he could distinguish everything he was hearing. From creaking trees to wolves, chirping crickets to somber owls. But the cold was finally getting to him and he pulled Claire closer to him, trying to generate some more heat. The blanket that they shared, or rather that Claire hogged, was thin and it hardly covered the length of his body. Most of it was tucked around Claire anyways, being significantly smaller than him, she needed all the warmth she could get.

Groaning, Wesker sat up and decided to go for some fresh air. He peered over his shoulder and Claire hadn't moved. Outside the air was crisp and sharp to his lungs. His bare chest tightened at the sudden change in temperature. Leaning against the door he saw a flashlight in the distance, probably a guard. Pushing as many thoughts as he could into the back of his mind, Wesker watched the beams bounce in every direction as though whoever was holding it was running frantically. Wesker's brows furrowed as the light came closer and then he could hear those frantic footsteps.

"Help!" A man screamed. "Somebody help us!"

Wesker sprang off the porch to meet the voice and the man collapsed in front of him, his chest heaving for air. He was on his hands and knees, chocking on his own breath and as he settled himself, he could see Chris and Barry emerge from the house.

"Help…" The man repeated, exhaustion lacing his voice.

"What happened?" Wesker demanded as he helped the man to his feet.

Chris and Barry rushed in from behind, stopping to listen to the man.

"I was doing my job," he started, breath catching in his throat every so often. "Jay and I…" Wesker then recognized the younger man, he and his friend chained him up outside after Michael had his 'fun' with him. "Jay and I were doing our rounds, like usual."

Wesker shook the man, trying to rope him out of the shock he was in.

"What's your name?" Chris asked him.

He looked up, utter fear in his dilated eyes. "David." He murmured. "My name's David."

"Ok, David." Wesker started. "Focus. What happened?"

"Jay thought he heard something so we went to check it out and by the fence there was…" He paused, clenching his hand around the flashlight. "There was a hole, a break in the perimeter. Someone or something had busted it open and we were going back to get some supplies to patch it up and then tell Michael but…"

"But what?" Chris barked. "What happened?"

"Jay turned around and there it was… one of those _things._" David chocked on a sob. "It bit him, tore a chunk right out his throat."

Chris looked to Wesker and then to Barry. This was about to get a lot harder than it had to be.

Chris shook his head. "Shit…"

"What happened after that, David?" Wesker asked. "What happened to Jay?"

"He's my baby brother…" David mumbled against a sob. "My baby brother's dead."

Wesker snapped in front of the younger mans eyes. "David!" He barked. "Tell me where this happened."

He complied and pointed directly behind him. "It was the farthest south wall."

"We need to find him," Wesker started. "Get rid of him before he bites someone else."

Chris nodded and went back inside to wake Billy and Claire. Barry nodded to Wesker, "I'll take him inside."

When he was alone, Wesker tried smelling the air for the biter. It was a distinct smell, off put and putrid. This was going from bad to worse in a matter of days and now they had to deal with a flaw. He knew this place wouldn't last long.

Chris remerged with Claire and Billy in tow. "Barry's gonna stay with the kid, look him over, make sure he doesn't have any bites or scratches."

Claire tossed Wesker his navy t-shirt, boots, and his gun. She had been keeping it for him since they left the neighborhood back in town. His prized and personal Beretta 92FS felt heavy in his hands. He had kept it all these years, ever since his work back in the RPD days. The two-toned finish with black and inox parts, the extended rail mount, skeleton hammer, an extended beavertail, and equipped with a LAM-1000 laser sight under the barrel. With a slight tug at his lips, remembering all the times this very gun saved his ass, Wesker stuffed it into the belt of his trousers.

"Alright, we gotta find that kid. Take him out and find the biter." Chris commanded, loading his gun. "Cause god only knows how many people are gonna get smoked if we don't figure this out."

Claire squeezed Wesker's arm as he too loaded up his firearm. "I'm gonna go check on Patrick and Kaya, I'm staying behind with Barry and the girls."

Wesker nodded and cocked the gun, relishing in that nostalgic feeling it gave him.

"Be careful," Claire said through her teeth, biting back any doubt she had. "I mean it."

"I promise, dearheart."

"Alright lets go!" Chris barked. "Claire I need you to tell Andrew about this. And until this gets out of hand, which it wont, we don't tell Michael."

"Got it."

The group, consisting of Billy, Wesker, and Chris, began towards the south wall where David had said the attack happened.

"Keep a sharp eye out, boys. That biter could be anywhere by now." Billy remarked. Each of them crossed their wrists, flashlights piercing the fog and guns at the ready.

"I knew this place wouldn't last long." Chris whispered. "Just goes to show you how fucking naive some people can be."

As the town faded and trees began to overtake the scenery, the fog became thicker and their surroundings darkened as towering pines blotted out the little moonlight there was.

"Can't see shit…" Billy muttered.

"Quiet." Wesker commanded.

The men stopped dead in their tracks. Listening for whatever Wesker just heard. "Over there." Beyond the point of Wesker's gun, Chris could see the walker shuffling along, dragging its leg. It was rotten and looked as though it had been dead for a long time. It gurgled on its own spit, dead eyes watching straight ahead of itself.

"No guns." Wesker whispered. "It will surly attract more." Shoving his gun back into his belt, he unsheathed his knife from his boot, mentally reminding himself to get holster for his gun and a sheath for the knife.

Steadily, trying to create unnecessary noise, Wesker stalked towards the walker as it ambled stupidly in search of flesh. With a lengthened step, Wesker grabbed the biter by the head and plunged his knife into the softened skull. With a sickening and slick push, the blade exited the other side of the head, right through one of its eyes. Pulling it away, the body crumpled to the grass.

Blood flecked across Wesker's stone features and he placed the knife back into the side of his boot.

"Now we have to find Jay." Chris remarked.

The men flanked out to cover more ground. It used to be a standard procedure back in the RPD days, three to four members would flank one another, ten feet on each side. That way, anything that they could come across, they would come across.

After what seemed like hours of pointing beams of light to sounds, the three had covered every wall of Eden.

"The kid couldn't have gotten too far!" Billy declared. "I mean, he's either dead or walkin."

Right after Billy had finished, a rippling scream tore through the otherwise silent town of Eden.

"Shit!" Chris shouted. "Let's go!"

All three of them began sprinting back into the town. Wesker, who seemed to have more energy in this very moment, was already beating the two men at the sprint. His eyes were hard, back straight, arms tightened at his pace, and his legs pumped harshly against the solid ground. The intensity in his stride bewildered Chris as he watched the older man huff against the cold, breath drawing from his mouth, warping into white clouds.

"Up there!" Billy yelled. "I see one up there!"

And he was right, the walker was hunched over a body of a woman, tearing out her entrails and feasting upon them in a most gruesome manner. Wesker, who had outrun Billy and Chris by at least two-hundred yards, pounced on top of the zombie and grabbed the back of its head. With a roar, he violently drove the biters head into the cobblestone path. Skull and brains sloshing out until there was no more movement. Chris and Billy had come to a stop behind him, trying to catch their breath while Wesker rose to his feet. His hands, arms, and face were smeared with blood.

"Way to show that biter who's boss, partner." Billy exclaimed.

"Wesker…" Chris said lowly, as if warning him. He could feel the change in the air when he watched him stand.

The older man pulled out his gun, cocked it back and pulled the trigger on the body who was at the end of the walkers feast. Putting a bullet right through its head.

"We have to get this under control right now!" Chris bellowed.

"Yeah," Billy remarked. "Or everyone's gonna become a human happy meal."

I'm gonna to get Andrew, see what we can do about this." Chris holstered his gun. "Wesker just make sure you kill anything that looks remotely dead."

"Last I checked, you're in no place to give me orders, Christopher."

Chris shook his head. "Whatever, just kill those damned biters!"

With a determined pounce in his step, Chris turned tail to Andrews house on the other side of the road. People began emerging from their houses, obviously curious about the gunshot. They stood in their doorways.

"What's going on?" A woman asked, her children hiding behind her legs.

"Everything's alright, folks." Billy reassured them. "Go back inside."

"Yes, Mr. Coen…" A voice rang behind him. "What _is _going on?"

Wesker and Billy turned to see Michael staring next to the body of the woman who had just been killed.

"Your piece of shit wall was busted open by a biter and now we have one, or more, on the loose!"

Michael looked down to the body of the walker that Wesker smashed to bits. "Yes well, I don't see a problem here. You obviously have it under control and what's a few walking dead to us?"

"A few could become ten." Wesker deadpanned. "And ten could become twenty." Wesker's eyes flashed. "You see, Michael. You and your people are unequipped to handle this, you're just too foolish to admit it. Our people have the means, the guts, and the guns. You're people are seemingly lacking in that department."

"Well then, if you think you're so 'equipped' to handle this" Michael responded cooly. "Carry on."

The two men had a stare down before Wesker backed away, shaking his head and cursing under his breath.

"Way to stand up for your people, you bastard." Billy remarked, pushing past the older man and joining Wesker.

"This is bad." Wesker finally said when they were away from Michael. "We don't know how many have been infected. We've already seen three so who's to say there aren't more?"

Citizens began exiting their homes to console Michael who had begun pouring gasoline over the two bodies.

"They should all stay inside," Billy stated. "They don't know what they're dealing with."

Ahead of them, there was a slack line where sheets and articles of clothing were hung, left to dry in the wind. Wesker picked out two pairs of feet from the small space between the ground and the sheets. They approached it steadily, Wesker's arm extended, gripping onto the sheet firmly. He raised his gun and pulled back the linen roughly, exposing a single biter gnawing on the throat of its victim.

"Damnit…" Wesker breathed. He unloaded two shots into the walker and it's meal.

Behind them, bright flames began to lick away at the bodies he had taken care of earlier. Silence had fallen upon deaf ears, tonight was just the beginning. All would have to fight and some would fall.

Wesker shoved his gun into his belt, wiping blood from his face. "These people better get ready to run for their lives."

**A/N: HOT DAMN LIL MAMA! 11 PAGES FOR YOU GUYS! Because I love you and this is your Christmas gift from me to you because I probably wont be able to get one out before then. So I leave you with some SOM holiday cheer! What will happen to the town of Eden? Tune into the next chapter of Shadow Of Me. Coming soon! **


	46. Forget That You've Forgotten

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

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**Here****'****s my Christmas present from me to you :) happy holidays, my friends!**

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_**bloody raptor: I**__**'**__**m glad you look forward to new chapters!**_

_**MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: Thank you! And my thanksgiving was great, thank you for asking! But we**__**'**__**ll have to see how much longer they can stay **__**"**__**on the same page**__**"**__**. **_

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Chapter 46: Forget That You've Forgotten

"_Forgetting isn't enough. You can paddle away from the memories and think they are gone. But they will keep floating back, again and again and again. They circle you, like sharks. Until, unless, something, someone? Can do more than just cover the wound.__" __- Sara Zarr_

_January 15th, 1998_

"Pass me my coffee would you, Al?" William asked, extending his arm without looking.

Wesker sighed and placed the mug into his friends hand.

"What time is it?"

Wesker eyed his watch, the one he had taken from his father before he died. "Half past 2." he answered dryly.

William sat up straight from his position, craning his neck from side to side. Slouching over a microscope really did a number on his back and neck these days. "Boy, that late already?"

"So it would seem." Wesker deadpanned.

The younger man rubbed the back of his head. "Well I'm gonna get home, I'll leave this to you if you're staying." He motioned at the microscope and a stack of files. "This batch seems to be doing a little better but I wouldn't count on any more progress than we've already gotten."

"Spencer is getting impatient, Will." Wesker drawled.

"I know, I know." He waved his hand absently. "He's just gonna have to realize that this is where his loyalties are lying, so he's gonna have to trust us."

"Perhaps," Wesker stated while taking a seat at the scope. "However, I'm not quite sure how much longer that trust will last."

"We're not trainees anymore, Al. We know what we're doing don't we?"

"I suppose."

William scoffed. "Knock it off with that. When are you going to give me a straight answer for once?"

"When I have one." Wesker said, ignoring his partner.

William shook his head. "Alright, I'm gettin' out of here. I'll see you in a couple of hours." He headed towards the door, slipping into his jacket and hanging up his lab coat. "And at least try to get some sleep tonight ok? I don't want you coming back all grumpy like the other day."

"Goodnight, William." Wesker remarked without acknowledging his friend, waving him off his back.

"Yeah, yeah…"

And with another mutter under his breath, Birkin was gone for the night. Wesker sighed and leaned back in the chair. William was becoming quite pesky these past few days. However, Wesker waved it off as just another one of his friends work related anxiety patches. The man could barely take care of his social issues much less his professional issues.

He tried to shut out his thoughts, needing to focus more on his research at hand. Marcus was a fool for ever thinking that the T-virus would have a 100% success rate. It was just completely improbable. When he and William first started working for Umbrella, James Marcus was their overseer, making sure that the two young men didn't goof off but he soon realized that they were far from immature. Especially Wesker. Yet, much to the confusion of the two, Marcus' demands were just too extreme. They would try for the sake of pleasing their bosses, but what they were after was not very likely to happen.

Wesker ran a hand over his eyes and decided to read up on some old files that William had left him. William was convinced that the older they were, the more information they withheld.

_November 13th, 1997_

_The T-virus has spawned an unusual amount of creatures that I have never seen before in my lifetime. I asked Albert today if these creatures could be used as sort of a backup program for T if she ever happened to lose control. He didn__'__t give me a straight answer. He never does. From the looks of things, we__'__re talking a 100% death ratio in any populace in which the virus would be released. Marcus__' __dreams of having super humans will be short-lived. Our probability rate, that we__'__re still working towards, suggests that for every 500 or so people infected with T, only 1 would adapt, mutate to Tyrant standards, and survive. It__'__s not confirmed what it would do without being in a controlled environment and I believe that we__'__ll never find out. Marcus is an idiot. Or as Albert says __'__he__'__s a blood-sucking imbecile__'__._

_I try to take into account everything Albert says. He__'__s a smart guy and for once in my life, I trust someone in my field of work. I__'__ve known him for a long time and I think I grew on him after a while. Even though the guy__'__s still a rotten socializer, he makes due with his expedient work ethic. Anyways, I__'__ll have to look further into a change ratio otherwise, Spencer and Marcus won__'__t be happy campers. _

Wesker closed the folder with a sigh, his friend had faith in him and that was something that he hadn't been placed with in a long time. In all his years, Wesker had never met someone quite like William Birkin. He was an eccentric type however, family oriented. His wife and daughter were very important to him and it made Wesker think about how family changes people. They have something to hold on to or look back on. They always have someone there for them. Wesker didn't have that. Most of, or perhaps all of, his immediate family were deceased. He did not like to reminisce about his mother and he refused to talk about his father. The last person he had to call family had turned his back on him.

Turning around in the office chair, Wesker rose up, cracking his neck and back. William had a warm heart and he appreciated that. But, Wesker thought, a warm heart would get you nowhere in the world. At least nowhere Wesker was headed. He checked his wristwatch, 3 am, he sighed, shuffling through more papers, trying to assess the situation he was currently in. He had to reboot four of the databases in the lab, call in a transfer team to carry samples from the Arklay lab to the Training Facility. Other than that, he had to deal with Spencer, talk to him about using the facility for further research. Here, at the Arklay lab, poking and prodding test subjects had become quite slow. Umbrella's budget had dropped significantly low this year, resulting in department cuts. Thankfully, the research department was spared, that was Umbrellas top priority at the moment. Security was pegged down however, Wesker was still mostly in charge of that. William had almost begged him to completely devote to research but there was extra profit, physically for the most part, but it also left another good feeling in Wesker's wallet.

A monitor across the room beeped wildly, and Wesker rose from his chair to see what was causing it to do so. There was a disturbance in one of their subjects, the woman in the other room was writhing miserably on the porcelain floor, groaning horribly. The window that allowed Wesker to look into her room was showing him that she was going through another cell breakdown, something that T was infamous for. There were certain stages that T slowly accelerated throughout its course. However, it could rapidly become severe in some cases like hers. Wesker tapped the desk as he input some codes into the computer, crunching numbers and compiling data. He snapped on a pair of his leather gloves and retrieved a syringe from the fridge, opening the door to the holding, Wesker shut it softly behind him, watching the young woman begin to calm.

He watched her as she clambered into the corner of the room, her dark hair framing her frail face, her pale skin almost matched that of the walls, and her skinny body was showing signs of malnutrition. It wasn't Wesker's fault if she refused to eat what they served her.

"Please…" She breathed. "I can't take this anymore, please just kill me!"

Wesker remained calm, approaching her slowly. "I have no intentions of killing you, darling. You are far too valuable to my research."

"That's what you always say…"

"Merely because it is true. There is no point in disposing of you if you continue to have use for me."

"I've been here for so long I've forgotten why I'm here, please, Wesker…" She pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them as if they would shield her from him. "Please let me go."

Wesker knelt down beside her, brushing a strand of her dark hair from her eyes. "I've treated you with nothing but kindness, Serena." Her eyes averted to his, hazel met blue and it seemed as if she was searching for something in his solid expression. "The least you could do for me is cooperate."

She scoffed and turned her head to the side to avoid his now smoldering gaze. "I always cooperate with you, Wesker."

"You are a persistent one aren't you, my dear?"

"And I'll stay that way as long as I'm here."

Wesker grabbed her chin roughly, forcing her to look at him in the eye. His gaze was harsh, his icy blue eyes boring right into her. "You underestimate them, Serena. They only aim to hurt you and I'm only here to ensure that they don't take it too far."

"Liar." Serena hissed. "You're a fucking liar. You _are _them."

"No," Wesker said softly, releasing his grip on her. "I'm just me, trying to help you." Pulling the syringe from his lab coat pocket, he held it in front of her. "Now please, love, let me help you."

Serena's hazel eyes softened as she realized that his words held meaning. She had been held captive here for almost a year, being subjected to a battery of tests and it seemed as if her end would come soon enough if it wasn't for her transfer to Wesker's lab. Before, she had been held at a different facility, practically being tortured. Her blood, as Wesker said, had a very special marker in it, something that was very unusual. Other subjects were killed off sparingly, something that seemed not to bother the researchers. Every subject that perished were swiftly replaced with another. Serena, however, was a different story. Her body was surprisingly tenacious, absorbing every injection as if her body accepted them unknowingly. Her blood, as Wesker had said many times, had a special marker within it, causing her cells to suppress the variation that T caused. Wesker was certainly amazed when he met her and he immediately demanded that she was to be moved to Arklay so that he could preform further tests on her. He and William were the only two people she saw for the past six months, and personally, she preferred Wesker. William was seemingly skittish around her, something that she found quite strange. He was an odd man, always beating around the bush but Serena could only assume that's just the way he was, he certainly couldn't be frightened of her.

Wesker, however, was always kind to her like he said. He never forced her to do anything she wasn't comfortable with, but that was nothing really. He was charming, able to convince her to do what he wanted without force. Manipulative, yet very sly about it. There was a certain persona that was laced within him, the very words he spoke to her. These past months have proven most successful for Wesker because he knew that she would never defy him. Although demandingly gentle, Wesker knew how to get what he wanted.

"Is this gonna hurt?" She asked as he rubbed the inside of her arm, trying to raise a vein. "Like last time?"

"You know last time was an accident and I won't let it happen again, darling."

There was a pang of sincerity in his words which made Serena calm her nerves. She watched him as he injected her with a more potent dose of Progenitor A. She felt it burn and hoped that it didn't cause her to have an attack again. She gripped the sides of his jacket, squeezing it until her knuckles were white. Wesker held her shoulders, shushing her softly.

It hurt like hell, but not as bad as last time. She physically could not handle the pain from last times injection. She screamed, kicked, clawed… and all the while, Wesker held her, holding her to his chest. She appreciated the act of kindness however, she wondered if it was even kindness at all. The pain had finally receded, and she released the lapels of his coat.

"See?" Wesker chided. "That wasn't too bad."

Serena rolled her eyes, rubbing the tiny pin prick on the crook of her arm.

"Are you hungry?" Wesker asked, standing to his height, adjusting his coat.

Serena shook her head. "No."

"You never eat, love." He stated. "I fear it is effecting our results. Sooner or later, you're going to _have _to eat something, otherwise your malnutrition will only worsen. And I can't risk you dying."

Serena furrowed her eyebrows. "You care too much about me and it's freaking me out."

"You are valuable to my research." Wesker deadpanned. "Simple as that."

"Ok then," she said sarcastically.

"I'll be back later to take a look at you," Wesker said while placing the empty syringe in his coat pocket. "I'll have to take another blood sample to see how you're handling this dose."

Serena only nodded, proving that she was comfortable while around the man was now second nature to her. She had been around him for so long it almost felt like a friendly socialization every time he visited her.

The door to her holding closed promptly and Serena was left alone again.

Wesker, who was now shutting down the lab, was running through everything in his head. He needed to keep the girl alive. Sorely for his research and personally because he said he would. He promised to treat her better than the fools up north, they certainly didn't know how to handle their business if it resulted in the way Serena had been treated while in their "care". He slipped the papers back into their respectful folders, turned off the monitors, and tucked his sunglasses into his breast pocket.

Wesker pressed down on the intercom button and the speakers squealed for a second before he could get his words in; he watched as Serena perked up at the sound of his voice.

"Goodnight, love."

XXXXX

"Expediency seems to be lacking this term, Albert." Spencer croaked. The old man coughed into his sleeve.

"You cannot blame it sorely on me, Spencer. You have other employees, if you were unaware." Wesker stood at the window of Spencer's bedroom. He requested that he come see him after he closed the lab.

Spencer approached him from behind and stood next to his protege. "What about the girl?"

"What about her?" Wesker bristled. He did not like where this conversation was headed.

"Have you rectified the problem within her? The marker in her blood?"

"The marker isn't the problem. Unlike Miss Trevor, Serena can undergo severe biological torture and still remain intact. William and I have never seen anything like it." He looked down to his advisor, or more so his teacher. "The NE-a type was administered five days ago, according to previous tests, Serena should have been dead by now but clearly, that isn't the case."

"So what are you planning on doing with her now that she has proven some kind of worth to your research?"

"She is simply remarkable and I need to preform further tests on her to determine if her body is capable of handling the remaining tests William and I have in store for her. Regardless of what you think, Serena will continue to stay in my care until I decide otherwise. She is not to be harmed."

Spencer raised an eyebrow and chuckled darkly, almost as if he was mocking Wesker for such a request. "You're making it sound like she's more likely to survive than the Wesker Children were."

"That is exactly what I am saying." Wesker said sharply. "Most of us died within days of administration."

"I do recall." Spencer chided. "The ones that lived, however…" Spencer trailed off. "You and I both know what happened to them."

Wesker was silent. Of the hundreds of children taken for the project, only thirteen survived. He remembered them all very well for Wesker felt connected to every one and when they died, a part of him died as well. They were, in a sense, his brothers and sisters. All put here for the same cause. All killed off by the same ignorance.

"Well if Miss Mills proves herself worthy a little longer, I may consider her freedom. She is, as you said, quite special isn't she?"

"You are obligated to make a decision for her but I will ultimately decide what becomes of Miss Mills and I will not argue it. She is my project, my responsibility." Wesker adjusted his suit jacket, watching the ice-cold rain fall outside from the window.

"You sound as if you're more than interested in her, Albert. You know what that leads to."

"It is nothing more than a professional interest in what she is and what she can do." It was a lie, Wesker inwardly admitted it.

"Of course it is, my boy." Spencer said gently. "I'll speak with you tomorrow." He addressed. "For now, get some rest. You've been at it for too long today."

Wesker only nodded, complying with his request and as he drove back into town late into the morning, all he could think about was Serena Mills.

XXXXX

_Present Day - February 4th, 2013_

Wesker never really closed in on what happened to her. A few months before Raccoon and S.T.A.R.S. she was being well taken care of by him and even showing promising results. But after Wesker was giving the mission for Tyrant test data, he had her moved to another lab in Raccoon, somewhere she'd be safe until he could find her.

Wesker, however, never thought of the consequences of his ulterior motives. Getting himself killed most likely got her killed too. Wherever she ended up, she was either dead right after Arklay was disposed of, or died in the wake of Raccoon's destruction.

Yet, as the morning sun broke over the horizon, the smell of burning flesh assaulted his nose, and the bright illumination of flames licking the bodies of the dead, Wesker could not find a sense of peace for that woman he cared for so long ago.

**A/N: I thought I wasn****'****t gonna be able to get this up here before Christmas but here it is and I hoped you enjoyed. Sorry it was kind of a filler but I promise, it foreshadows coming events! So here****'****s to a great holiday and I hope it****'****s filled with family, friends, and holiday cheer! Also, happy new year! Set some new goals and work hard to achieve them! I know you can do it! **


	47. Back To Black

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil. **

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><p><strong>Hey guys! I hope your holiday was great as well as the start of your new year! If your down, keep you chin up and if your good, keep it good! Roll in the new year better than the last! Those are my words of wisdom for you :) on with SOM!<strong>

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><p><em><strong>Sundragon: It<strong>__**'**__**s nice to hear from you again, my friend! And thank you so very much for all your reviews. I know it**__**'**__**s hard to keep up sometimes but take your time and don**__**'**__**t feel guilty. Shadow Of Me will always be here, waiting for you :) And you have my full blessing to read them! I don**__**'**__**t have many but I**__**'**__**m sure you**__**'**__**ll enjoy them!**_

_**MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: You**__**'**__**ll just have to wait and find out ;)**_

_**Bloody raptor: Read on and find out ;)**_

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><p><span>Chapter 47: Back To Black<span>

The flames licked away the flesh from the bodies that had been fed to its insatiable hunger. Black smoke had risen into the dawning sky, smothering the oncoming light. A foul stench invaded the senses of those who stood to watch their fellow man burn away into ashes. The madness was over but the silence that had fallen was nothing short of unspeakable grievance. Crows had begun to circle high above the pile of bodies, waiting until the flames died away to feast upon the last remaining gouges of flesh that remained. Their mournful screeches, like sirens to the dead, plagued the ears of all who were listening. Hope was little in the minds of those who survived, of those who had the misfortune to witness a slaughter by teeth and nails. A slaughter by those who were once them. Death was a hard pill to swallow and they had to swallow without water.

Michael stood in front of his people, hushing them with calming words. He whispered something into Andrews ear and then cleared his throat.

"Today we lost a battle to the one thing we tried so hard to keep out." He looked upon the faces of his folk, seeing the worry in their eyes. "We lost three good people tonight, three people whom I believe, _could _have survived if it weren't for the carelessness of our own ignorance. We thought we were safe. We thought we could hold out until help came. But I was wrong!" Michael shouted to the silent pool of onlookers. "I was naive to think that we could save everyone."

"Then… Then what should we do?" A man shouted, raising a mutter from the crowd.

"Jay," Michael began. "Was a good kid. Along with Valerie and Jeff. They were all innocent people, subjected to the horror of the world out there!" Michael said while pointing to the south wall. "We need to gather our wits, pray for the dead that we have lost."

The crowd became unsettled, mumbling to themselves and others.

"I'm afraid there isn't much we _can _do at this moment. We have had the wall fixed and now we must see to it that they don't find another way in."

"He's right!" Someone shouted.

Andrew nodded, his father was actually making sane choices right now. Choices that wouldn't get more people killed. Whatever his ulterior motives were, they were unconcerning at this moment.

"Now please," Michael chided. "Everyone go back to your beds, rest, and do not let your minds linger on what happened tonight."

The crowd began to do as they were told, bustling back into their homes accordingly.

XXXXX

"They're afraid." She spoke lowly.

Alex scoffed. "But of course they are!" He said happily. "We mustn't allow them to figure things out but if we wait long enough, they'll start pointing fingers."

Alex and the woman watched from afar, against the north wall. They played in the shadows just how he liked it. Whether or not the started pointing fingers at his brother was not particularly his concern. His plan was falling into place, piece by piece it put itself together.

"What do we do now?" She asked.

"We wait."

She nodded, turning tail as he did. The two walked back towards the wall and as Alex cleared it without a problem, she lingered, watching the townspeople scurry back into their homes like frightened rabbits. She could feel him, his seemingly overbearing yet protective presence. She knew he was here, there was no denying it. Ever since that day in Raccoon when she escaped those labs, she had been looking for him. The only man she knew could help her, save her life even. But alas, he was nowhere to be found. Soon after, she head rumors that he had died, got himself killed by a foolish ambition, but that was no matter. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she knew that Wesker had something up his sleeve and much later, she found out that she was right. Against her better judgement, she knew him very well. After all, she spent almost a whole year in his 'custody'. In an odd sense, she cared for him in a cynical way and she knew that he felt the same. It had been a significant amount of years since she had last seen him and no doubt that she had grown into an exceptionally beautiful woman. Her dark brown hair had fallen past her shoulders, hazel eyes burned with an intensity like no other.

With a final look behind her shoulder, Serena Mills hurdled over the forty foot walls.

XXXXX

"Do you suppose Wesker was behind this?" Michael inquired.

Chris, who stood opposite of him shook his head. "I don't see how he could have ripped a chunk out of the wall like that. You've seen him, you've seen how weak he's gotten."

Michael smirked darkly. "Ah but I have seen him, and he looked as though he had the wilderness in his veins. Hardly weak."

"But someone would have to lure the walkers over to the walls," Chris blurted. "There's no way they could have just stumbled upon a hole like that. It was too small for them to notice on their own."

Michael nodded and took a generous sip from his glass of brandy. "I see your logic, Mr. Redfield."

"Look, I don't think Wesker did this." Chris stated. Now was the time to establish trust, just like Andrew said. "But…" He looked to Michael who was now all ears. "But I do think he's trying to stir something up."

"So you too have that feeling of dread whenever you see him?" Michael said quietly, as if he was afraid to speak of such a feeling. "Like he's planning on slashing your throat in your sleep?"

Chris nodded. "I've known Wesker for a long time. He's got nothin' better to do than watch a couple fools like us stumble over each other." Chris circled the room, inwardly cheering himself on. "But you see, Wesker's a little ignorant, a little naive."

"Go on." Michael assured.

"He might always be one step ahead, but he never thinks one step back. Once he's done, he's done. No more thought goes into it. We have to think _behind_ him. Thinking ahead," Chris shook his head. "Useless."

"I follow but how are we going to execute such a tedious plan?"

Chris, who seemingly hit the nail on the head, smirked. "Leave that to me."

XXXXX

Wesker hacked a mess of blood into the sink and his coughing fit would not relent. He gripped the sides of the sink tightly, hearing it creak dully forced him to remove himself from it. Wesker wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling lightheaded, he stumbled out of the bathroom and onto the couch. He sat there and rubbed his temples, sucking in large portions of air to fill his overworked lungs. When he finally settled, he looked with weary eyes into the kitchen where Claire and his son were sitting at the dining table, playing chess. They moved the pieces around strategically, watching each other think.

Wesker looked to Claire who gave him a small yet sad smile. Wesker hardly returned it and Claire motioned for him to come over. As he did so, she rose from her chair stretching.

"Why don't you play with Pat for a while?" She asked him while running a hand through her hair. "I'm gonna rest and check on David." She kissed him on the lips softly, holding his face delicately in her hands. "Pat, dad is gonna take over for me ok?"

The boy nodded and smiled at his father.

Wesker sat down and eyed the board. "Alright," he began while cracking his knuckles. "What do we have here?"

"Mom was beating me," Patrick sighed while moving a pawn ahead. "She always beats me."

"That's because I taught her how to play." Wesker chuckled. "But now I can teach you how to play so you can beat her."

Patrick giggled. "Ok! Should we start a new game?"

Wesker nodded and began moving the pieces back into their starting places. "Now, I'm sure you know all the pieces and their purposes?"

Patrick nodded. "Eight pawns, two rooks, two knights, two bishops, one King, and one Queen."

"Very good," Wesker praised. "Now who is it you want to capture?"

Patrick lifted the white wooden king in its classic slender shape. "The King." He placed it back. "The rest of the chessmen are here to protect him."

"That's right. It's all about whom you move and how you move them." Wesker watched as his son shifted a regal white pawn across the board.

"Your turn, dad."

XXXXX

Later that night, Wesker was awake in bed, listening to Barry or someone snore like a bear upstairs. He rolled his eyes in the dark and sighed heavily. His skin was burning up, which caused Claire to constantly push herself away from him.

His ears then picked up the sounds of footsteps outside on the porch and his body shot straight up like a bullet. He strained his hearing, trying for anything out of the ordinary. Wesker tightly gripped the handle of his gun as he tried to listen harder to the footsteps outside. When they halted Wesker's shoulders squared and his muscles tightened, rising to his feet as quite as he could, he turned the laser sight on and aimed the gun with deadly precision. The darkness was invading his eyesight, causing him to blink more often, red hues illuminating dully. The wind howled outside like it always seemed to do and the screen door creaked back and forth, sometimes throwing itself against the frame loudly. Reaching out with one hand, Wesker grabbed the knob and opened the door to the front porch, turning like a rigid machine to the left, Beretta aimed tightly against the dark. No one was there but Wesker could feel a familiar presence, but it was one that he had not felt in a long time. Something told him that the feeling was nigh impossible.

"I know you're there." He whispered deeply, baritone voice penetrating the silence. "Lest not forget you and I are alike, Alex." Turning to the right, his gun rattled in his now unsteady hands, a wave of nausea swept over him like a hurricane.

"Alex isn't here." A voice came through from his left and Wesker spun around, pointing the barrel of his gun down to the figure sitting on the porch swing. "Put that thing away before you hurt someone, Wesker."

His eyes adjusted to the darkness that seemed to creep in on him like a thick, black fog. It was then that he saw her, sitting lazily on the swing as if there were not a care in the world. Her figure was slim, just as he remembered, eyes the most rich of hazel, and hair dark as the night that surrounded them.

"Serena…"

She smiled up at him and motioned for him to sit beside her. "Long time no see, Mr. Wesker."

Lowering his gun, his garnet eyes softened, looking upon her. "I thought you were—-"

"Dead?" She interrupted him stammer. "Well I could say the same for you."

"How?"

"After Raccoon hit the fan, I escaped, wasn't really that hard though. No one was watching me… the labs were empty. Everyone had gone." She seemed as if she was saddened by the memory of that dirty city, something that she had grown quite fond of, for it rested in there in her thoughts and would forever.

She looked to Wesker and smiled sadly, patting the spot next to her, he finally complied and sat down, the wooden swing creaking under their weight.

"I didn't mean to leave you so suddenly."

Serena shrugged, softly tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I had a feeling you wouldn't come back. I mean, why else would you leave me there?"

"I never looked for you." Wesker muttered. "I thought you had died with the city like everyone else."

"Well I looked for you. Looked until I heard you died…" She said softly. "Ran off and got yourself killed for no good reason." Those words had a bite to them and Wesker now knew that she was hurt. Hurt because he said he would come back for her and that he broke another promise.

"It was not for no good reason, I assure you."

"So you did die?"

"Yes."

Silence engulfed them then, but they each welcomed it. It was not uncomfortable, both of them were through being uncomfortable with the other. That had ended long ago.

"When I didn't find you and after I gave up, I tried to get back into the swing of things, tried to get everything back to normal but…" She trailed off, listening to everything the night had to offer. "But I couldn't do it without you. I tried to tell myself that I wasn't dependent on what you did for me, what you did _to _me."

"You survived. That is an achievement in itself, love." Wesker caught himself letting her nickname slip off his tongue.

Serena chuckled and shrugged again. "It wasn't such a great one until…"

Wesker's eyes led themselves over her face, searching for something that she wasn't ready to give yet. "Until what?"

"Until Alex found me."

Wesker bristled and Serena could feel the sudden change in the air. "Alex?" He seethed darkly, that deep and chilling voice that Serena remembered. "What did he do to you?"

"Nothing." She exclaimed. "He didn't do a thing to me."

"I don't believe you, Serena."

Her head whipped around to meet his, eyes burning a brilliant gold. "I said nothing, Albert." The use of his first name only hardened the fact that she was lying to him.

"You're infected."

"Have been for a while now."

"He's been using you hasn't he? For his dirty work."

Serena didn't answer him, she gave him the cold shoulder like she used to.

"If you're in alliance with my brother then why are you here?"

She dug around in her satchel and pulled out a syringe. "I came to give you this." The moonlight, little that there was, shone upon a red liquid that floated densely inside. "It's kind of a cure to what Alex gave you. Something that'll take the edge off, work itself into the poison, and then kill it off within a matter of days."

"You knew about that?"

"He asked me to do it but I said no." She grabbed his hand and placed the syringe within it, closing his fingers around the cool glass. "I told him that I couldn't hurt you… it would just go against everything that you've done for me. It wouldn't be right and I would never forgive myself if I caused your death."

"That is foolish, Serena. You shouldn't defy him."

"Well I did." She hissed. "And you should be grateful that I came here against my better judgement."

Wesker sighed heavily and gave her a small smile. "I am, Serena. I am grateful but you shouldn't play double-crosser right now. It's too dangerous and…" He looked up into her eyes, stunning gold met smothering red. "And I would hate to see you get hurt."

Serena chuckled. "There it is, the Wesker charm." Blinking, her eyes sweltered back into the usual hazel they held. "Look, take the injection and get back to yourself. In this state," she sized him up. "You're in no condition to take him on." Her eyes flicked down to his hand. "But with that, you just might be able to get the upper hand on him."

"I can't fight him. As much as I hate to say, he's stronger than me."

Serena perked up with a cocky smile. "Well that's where I come in."

"Go on."

"I've figured things out over the past few years. Your blood and Alex's blood are completely different. Alex has a defect, like me, that allows him to sustain it. You're all natural, baby. Always have been."

"Yes I know that, get to the point."

"You two are _lethal _to one another. You're blood is poisonous to him and vice versa. That's what he stuck you with that day, a disgusting and infested sample of his blood. Now if I can just get close enough to poke his snarky little ass with your blood, that'll weaken him and you'll surly have the advantage."

"Genius." Wesker replied. "Absolute genius."

"I thought so." Serena smirked. "I learned a lot from watching you and listening to your reports, everything that you talked about in the labs, I remembered. I had a feeling that someday it was gonna be worth something and lookie here."

Wesker's smile returned and he thanked every deity that he had for this very moment. The odds were now in his favor and they just so happened to take a liking upon him. He looked down to the syringe and handled it with care as he rose it to a vein in his neck.

"I trust you, Serena." Wesker said quietly but with an edge of his former bite. "But I'm taking a risk here, for you. For everything that I've been trying so hard to sustain."

The woman nodded. "I understand."

The needle slipped under his skin and pierced the vein below, its contents filled into the blood that flowed within them. When it was empty, a rush of pure adrenaline hit Wesker like a mac truck, he could feel his blood burn, his eyes sharpen, and his muscles spark into action. He felt brand new, as if he had been raised from the dead. He could hear everything, see farther than ever before. Wesker could almost reach out and touch the very environment around him. Each and every one of his senses were on _fire_. Blazing new life into an old host. His head was swimming with memories of how he felt moments after he had awoken from his death at the mansion. That overwhelming yet, invigorating sensation coursing through his rigid veins. Heat like the belly of dragon replaced everything cold and like it did before, it no longer existed. Restoration felt right, it felt as though it belonged here, as though this was its rightful home.

Wesker sucked in a breath of fresh air, smelling everything the forest, night, and _world _had to offer. Opening his eyes, they burned with a new and feverish red that rivaled any other glow they once had. Consumed with these new yet old sensations, Wesker stood to his full height, feeling his muscles work beneath his flesh. The valley below him was now his ground, his for the taking if he so desire. No one in this town could take him on, no one in this town could behead his ambitions.

He was the wilderness.

He was, once again, a God amongst men.

**A/N: Hey guys! Happy New Years! Sorry for so many perspective breaks in this one, I just couldn****'****t nail it on the head this time around. But that is no matter! It looks like Wesker is back in action and ready to kick some ass! But will his rein last as long as he hopes? Tune in next time for the next chapter of Shadow Of Me. **


	48. And The Rest Is History

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

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><p><strong>Hey guys! I have a quick favor to ask of you! It would really help me out if you went to my page, scrolled down to the links at the very bottom, clicked on my 8tracks link, and listened to my Wesker mix and my WeskerClaire mix! The Wesker mix is called **_**"**__**The Consummate Professional**__**"**_** and the Wesker/Claire mix is called **_**"**__**Restitution For Your Own Lack Of Insight. Failing To See The Devil Beside You**__**"**__**.**_** I think you****'****ll like them! **_**"**__**The Consummate Professional**__**" **_**is basically when contemporary clashes with killer and **_**"**__**Restitution For Your Own Lack Of Insight. Failing To See The Devil Beside You**__**"**__**, **_**is a timeline mix - From up, to down, to dead. Give em a listen and tell me what you think! **

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><p><em><strong>Bloody Raptor: You<strong>__**'**__**ll just have to read on, my friend!**_

_**MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: Thank you so much! I actually laughed at myself for about 5 minutes. Also thanks for the review!**_

_**Sundragon: Keep your chin up, my friend. I**__**'**__**m sure that as time goes on, your year will brighten! Thank you for taking such a liking into my OC**__**'**__**s! Serena is by far my favorite! (I also hope you enjoy my Thor fics!)**_

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><p><span>Chapter 48: And The Rest Is History<span>

Today was warmer, February was coming to a close as spring started to emerge. Grass had gotten a little greener, trees began to grow buds. The people of Eden had now begun spending more time outdoors, despite what had happened only two days before. Michael had reassured them that they were safe, that they needed not to panic. Mistakes happen, he said, and mistakes were easily fixed.

Michael's guard was down, or that's what Andrew speculated. He was constantly away from his home, checking up on his people, the walls, and most importantly, the farms and stocks. They had canned food, enough for maybe another year, but he also took great care of his livestock. It took him months to gather them and it had taken him even longer to treat them with care so that they produced what they needed.

Chris couldn't deny that Eden was safe. Aside from what had happened the other night, this place was certainly as good as it was going to get. After all of his doubts, Chris ended up liking this place. What with the shelter, food, and comfort, he and his group were obtaining the salvation that they deserved. Now all's they had to do was wait. And that was slightly easier said than done.

Andrew jogged up to Chris who was standing on his porch, watching a few kids play in the street with a kickball. He was rolling a smoke in between his fingers, the last one he had. He was saving it for something, what that was, he wasn't quite sure yet.

_A victory__… __maybe. _He thought to himself. Andrew tilted his head at him and bid him a good morning.

"Michael is away at the farms right now, he just left. Now's your chance to get upstairs."

They had been planning a sort of 'raid' on Michaels private den that was upstairs in his house. Andrew thought that he may have something there, information perhaps, that would help Chris out in his trail to gain Michael's trust.

Chris nodded and tucked the cig in the pocket of his jacket, brushing the cool metal of his lucky zippo lighter. As the two men walked towards Michael's place, Claire came up next to them with a small smile.

"You guys on a spy mission yet or what?" She asked with a laugh.

Chris, who looked more stern than he usually was, only nodded at his sister.

"I think that Chris could find some important information pertaining to your, well, Wesker's situation. My father is a very organized man so I wouldn't be surprised if he has something hidden away up there that could be of some use to us."

Claire halted pace when they did, outside of the house. She placed a hand on Andrews shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "I really appreciate everything that you're doing here, Andy."

The younger man smiled a little at the nickname.

"I can't even begin to imagine how hard it is to sneak around your dad like this."

"Well my father hasn't been the same since my mother died. He's been on a mission to obscure himself from the world out there."

Claire only nodded, assuming that his mother had died in the first few days of the outbreak.

"Not everyone survives…" Andrew said quietly. "I know that. But my father… he's still a bit blind to what's _really _out there." He looked to Claire then Chris. "And you guys know how to survive, you've all been through this before. This is all new to me, it'll always be new to me. Surviving in this world has been the hardest thing I've ever done… but I can't imagine doing it with kids, Claire. You're braver than me." He gave a slight chuckle, commending her in her endless fight.

Claire smiled sadly. "Patrick and Kaya are survivors, like all of us."

Without noticing, Chris had walked into the home in silence.

"And Chris," Claire pointed. "Chris has been through this stuff more than me. He's risked his neck a few times and all for me. I feel guilty but… he always says that's what he was put on this earth for. To protect the people he loves and he's always done a damned good job at doing it."

"And what of Wesker?"

"Albert has always been on the other side of the coin during shit like this." Claire said sternly. "He's always been the one causing these things while Chris has always been the one fighting these things."

Andrew rose a dark brow. "Causing?"

Claire nodded and folded her arms across her chest, shaking her head while she did so. "To put it lightly, Andrew, Albert is the bad guy you don't wanna get tangled with." She sighed as her eyes averted to the upper window to watch Chris pass in front of it. "He's always been the guy behind the curtain. Every outbreak, save for this one thank god, has been either directly caused by him, or indirectly called by him." Claire shrugged. "He's the boss."

"I see." Andrew said softly. "And yet, how did you get involved with him, if I may ask?"

Claire laughed a little, recalling memories that were too burned into her to forget. "Well that goes pretty far back, I guess. I met him once while Chris was working under him at S.T.A.R.S., I'm sure Chris has told you about that?"

The younger man nodded. "Yes, I do recall him mentioning that he used to be a cop, and Wesker his captain. Under a ruse of course."

"Yup," Claire confirmed. "Wesker was in charge of gaining their trust. S.T.A.R.S. was just a set up, a really clever set up. By Umbrella, the company that Albert was loyal to years before Raccoon. I remember I dropped off Chris' lunch once and I bumped into him just outside of the office. I was so embarrassed cause I dropped the damned carton that the food was in and I just stood there like a blabbering idiot. I knew who he was, I was just speechless for some reason. He bent down and picked it up, eyeing me like I was some crazy person."

XXXXX

_December 1997_

"_Miss Redfield, I assume?__" __Wesker asked with sharp quip. He wasn__'__t very amused that she had almost spilled the contents of the box onto his boots, nor was he amused that she practically slammed into him. _

_Claire laughed nervously and accepted the box back into her hands. __"__I am so sorry, sir.__" _

_She looked up to the man that she had so ungracefully collided into. He was tall, very tall. His blonde hair was neatly slicked back, he wore a dark blue button down that tightly fitted his lean frame and black combat slacks. There was a badge that pinned itself over his left breast pocket that said CAPTAIN A. WESKER in neat bold print. His features were strong, alpine cheeks and a carved nose. But what really struck Claire the most were his ice cold blue eyes that had a tint of green swimming in them. She was unsure if it was a defect but they were pale blues that resembled that of the sky after a storm. _

"_Brining lunch to Christopher, are we?__" __He inquired, eyes averting to the carton in her hands. _

"_How did you know that I was his sister?__" _

"_He has a photograph of you on his desk and he never shuts up about you.__" _

_Claire laughed nervously. __"__Well he and I are all we have left so I kinda get it. But could you give this to him?__" _

"_I think you are more than capable of giving it to him yourself, Miss Redfield.__" __He opened the door, stepping aside. _

_She was a little taken back by his last statement however, she never assumed him to be a pleasant man even if she had just met him. While walking into the office, Wesker shut the door behind her, ushering her to Chris__' __desk with a nod of his head. _

_Her brother turned around, grinning stupidly when he saw her. __"__Hey, Claire! What are you doing here?__" _

_She held out the box nervously, as the rest of the S.T.A.R.S. members eyes were on her. __"__I came to drop off your lunch, you big dummy. You left it at home.__" _

_Chris took the box from her and set it on his desk. __"__Ah thank, sis. Say, did you meet the captain?__" _

"_Yeah and he doesn__'__t seem like the nicest guy__…" _

_Chris shrugged. __"__Well that__'__s Wesker for ya.__" _

_Wesker__… __Claire thought. Wesker. His name rolled off her tongue in a foreign way but also in a way that felt right. It was odd and Claire wasn__'__t sure if she liked it. _

XXXXX

"Skip ahead a whole year and this is when I had my first real encounter with Wesker, not Albert." She alienated his last name, something that she identified him with his past and that was no longer.

"After his supposed death at Arklay, he started working behind the curtain and with a new group called HCF. They were basically his ragtag round up of highly trained soldiers but still, he was under the command of someone higher and that always pissed him off. The Organization, or so they were unofficially called, was the underground composition of followers, agents, and operatives. No one really knew, or ever found out who ran it. But HCF was Wesker's gang of cheap but tough bandits and he was given the orders to go to an island just outside of Antarctica and capture a woman named Alexia Ashford. She was a valuable addition to Wesker's cause because she had something that he wanted. The T-Veronica Virus. T-Veronica was T-Virus's bigger and badder sister. I was in Paris, doing some leg work, looking for Chris. When I was there, I broke into an Umbrella lab and to my idiocy, I got caught and taken prisoner. They transferred me to Rockfort. And what happens hours later? HCF attacks the island and I get set free when the grid goes down."

"So Wesker was there? Behind it all?"

"Yup, he was actually on the island though and I had the misfortune to run into him."

XXXXX

_December 1998_

"_Greetings!__" __A baritone voice rang out through the courtyard. __"__It__'__s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Redfield.__"_

"_Wesker?__" __Claire questioned, backing up a step as he came closer. __"__I thought you were dead.__" _

"_Let__'__s just say I__'__m a ghost.__" __Wesker mocked. __"__Coming back to haunt your dear brother.__" _

_Wesker kept moving forward and Claire__'__s back was against the door. _

"_It seems there__'__s not much explaining to do now is there? I was the one who attacked this island. Who would have thought you__'__d be hanging about.__" __He stopped a few feet from her, and she noticed how much he had changed in just over a year since she had seen him last. He was dressed from head to toe in black combat gear, a shoulder holster with his gun strapped itself there. Yet, he still withheld the same sharp features only this time, his eyes were covered in a pair of black reflective sunglasses. The air that hung about him wasn__'__t friendly as it was before, she almost felt violated by his presence. _

_Wesker chuckled darkly and it sent prickling chills down Claire__'__s spine. __"__All the better for me now that the cat dragged in this nice prize. Now your ever so caring brother will defiantly show up. I must thank you for being such good bait, dearheart.__" _

"_I don__'__t know what went on between you two but you have it all wrong.__" __Claire barked with a cocky quip in her tone. __"__My brother is not the kind of person you think he is.__" _

_Wesker__'__s lip twitched and his red eyes flashed unbeknownst to Claire under his black shades. His arm lashed out and his gloved hand grabbed Claire by the chin, spinning her around to face him. _

"_I __**despise **__your pathetic brother.__" __Wesker growled, tightening his grip on Claire__'__s chin. _

"_What are you gonna do to him?__" __She asked, struggling against him. Claire didn__'__t even have the chance to blink before Wesker tossed her onto the ground a few feet away. His throw was powerful, much too powerful to be humanly possible. As she tried to get her body to lift itself from the ground, Wesker was already approaching, his menacing steps echoed through the empty courtyard. He loomed over her as she tried to scoot away from him, but he pressed his boot into her shoulder, digging her back into the ground with painful force. _

"_Oh how your brother would hate to see you die.__" __Wesker said with terrifying calmness. He kept grinding his boot into Claire__'__s shoulder, hearing something snap under the force. There was a small beep inside his ear, the piece that rested within it was alerting an incoming call. _

"_What?__" __He asked sternly, obviously annoyed that his time was being taken up. He moved away from Claire, giving her time to recover. She gripped her shoulder and winced as she tried to replace the dislocation. _

"_Stay there.__" __Wesker commanded to whomever was on the other line. __"__I__'__ll be on my way.__" _

_He turned back to Claire but this time, he delivered a swift and mighty kick straight to her jaw, which sent her flying to the left and skidding to a halt. _

_He walked away from her, back turned and contemplating on what he was going to do next. __"__It appears you may be of some further use to me. I__'__m going to let you live a little longer.__" __He turned to look over his shoulder and that__'__s when she noticed them. _

_His eyes burned a vicious red and when he turned to face her again, they left ghostly streaks in the air. _

XXXXX

"Chris and I got off that island, just short of Wesker again but I knew, somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that he hadn't died in that explosion. There was just no way. Lo and behold I was right."

"Your story is quite the interesting one, Claire." Andrew smiled.

"And it hasn't got any less interesting. I ended up getting into some more trouble a few years later and that's when him and I really got on each others nerves. I decided that I would head to Europe again, snoop around in some of his business and I knew what I was doing, hell, it gave me a rush when I got inside and stole from him. But, again, my idiocy got the better of me and he caught me a few days later. He came to my apartment and ripped it apart, looking for the case that I took from him. I watched him throw furniture around like they weighed nothing more than a pound… had struck me and I was bleeding all over my carpet. I tried not to show him fear cause I knew that's what he fed off of. But… but he took me with him, leverage against Chris. That was always his plan."

Andrew, who was now fully intrigued into Claire's story, averted his eyes to the farm, keeping a close eye out for Michael.

"I honestly thought that it was gonna be the end for me. He never showed his face, he never fed me, hell, he never even gave me something to drink. Until," Claire smirked. "Until I sassed him up a wall, drove him absolutely nuts to the point where he was throwing me across the room in every which way. I knew exactly how to get what I wanted, it was all about getting under his skin."

"Surly _something _happened." Andrew inquired. "I mean, I see the way you look at him, and he you."

"I got hurt…" Claire muttered. "I managed to get away from him and I stumbled into a holding cell where he was keeping a few dogs that were infected with T. I sliced open my shoulder trying to get away from them but he saved me, kinda. He killed the dogs with a flick of his wrist and he patched me up."

XXXXX

_May 2001_

_Claire winced when he pressed the disinfected rag against her jagged cut. She hadn__'__t the slightest idea how it happened. One moment she was backing into a corner and the next, she was being rescued by the one person she wanted to get away from. _

"_This is going to need stitches, Claire.__" __Wesker stated flatly. He opened a first aid kit and started stringing the thick surgical needle. __"__I believe it would be in your best interest to be more careful next time or perhaps, not run away from me.__" _

"_Oh please, Wesker. Like I would wanna stay anywhere near you.__" _

_His stone cold look did not falter when he halted preparing the needle. __"__Fine then, would you like to do this yourself, risk bleeding out all over my carpet, or would you like me to continue?__" _

_Claire didn__'__t answer, she only eyed him almost pleadingly. _

"_That__'__s what I thought.__" __Wesker said with a small smile. As he wrung the needle through he skin, she yelped and gripped his arm tightly. _

"_The more you complain the worse it will be, Miss Redfield.__" __Wesker deadpanned while continuing with his threading. _

_Claire grimaced, digging her nails into his skin. __"__Well you try getting crude field stitches.__" _

_Wesker turned around to gather a wet rag and he sighed, as if she had sparked an old memory within him. __"__I have, I assure you.__" __He dabbed the blood that pooled from the wound as the last stitches were tugged into place. _

_Claire eyed his work and was certainly surprised to see it very well done. The threading was not as crude as she thought it might be but after all, he __**was **__a doctor. Wesker__'__s face lowered to bite the thread and she could feel his hot breath on her skin and his nose brushed every so slightly over her bare shoulder. Silence had befallen the two and Wesker__'__s face raised only slightly, so that he was perfectly eye-level with Claire. _

"_Thank you.__" __Claire muttered. _

"_You__'__re welcome.__" __Wesker responded just as softly. _

_Their lips were just mere inches apart and Claire__'__s head was swimming with a dark intoxication that she knew was caused by his scent. It tossed her through a loop every time she caught a whiff of it. Something like deep pine and spices, a very pungent yet invigorating smell. _

"_Wesker__…" __Claire__'__s following words were cut short by his lips pressing against hers in a dominant yet fleeting way. He gently took her cheek in one hand, the other gripped her knee gently. Claire sunk into him, her lips fit perfectly against his as if they were made for each other. _

_When they parted, Claire turned her face, hiding her furious blush. Wesker remain somewhat stoic as he smoothed out the fabric of his shirt. _

"_I don__'__t think that was a very good idea.__" __Claire finally spoke. _

_Wesker chuckled deeply and it reverberated throughout the entire room, sending chills down Claire__'__s spine. __"__What have you done to me, Claire?__" _

XXXXX

Claire shrugged, "And the rest is history."

Andrew gave her a few light, joking claps as her story came to an end.

"Fast forward 11 years and I got two 12 year old twins and a hell of a lot of guilt."

"Guilt for what?" Andrew asked quizzically.

"Guilt that I never told him that I loved him when I had the chance. He left without hearing it from me when I had already heard it from him. I don't know…" Claire sighed softly. "Sometimes I wish I could go back and change it, say it to him so that he knew. From that day on, alls I ever thought about was him, running off and getting himself killed and not being told that he was loved. It was my biggest fear…" Claire shook her head. "And I mean, why wouldn't it be? He left me and I had to do it all on my own. It _sucked _and he knows how much I struggled. But I was so hung up on him, thinking to myself that one day, he'd come back and I'd get to have my picture perfect family with a white picket fence."

"No one has a picture perfect family and a white picket fence anymore, Claire." Andrew said softly.

"Yeah." Claire muttered. "I know."

XXXXX

"There was nothing?" Claire asked, sipping water from a glass.

Chris threw his arms up in the air and continued pacing across the wooden floor. "Nothing! Everything that _was _up there, was total BS."

"I don't understand…" Andrew mumble to himself.

"Maybe he's onto us, I don't know!" Chris shouted.

"Bellowing will get you nowhere, Christopher." Wesker remarked, walking into the room from a roused sleep.

"Just stay out of this, Wesker." Chris barked.

"This _is _about me, is it not?"

Chris shook his head and stormed upstairs, muttering something under his breath.

Andrew turned to Wesker and Claire and as he watched them interact so subtly, he now knew what Claire's meaning was. She stuck around all those years for a man who would never let her down.

"I'm gonna get going," Andrew piped in. "I'll think of something else but for the time being, we need to play it cool."

Claire nodded and thanked the younger man as he left the home and into the night.

XXXXX

Wesker was awake again, listening for Serena. She hadn't said she would come back, he just had a feeling she would. Claire was curled against him, her pale skin clad only in her pink boy shorts. Her delicate, yet honed features never seized to amaze him. Her fiery red hair cascaded over her, greatly accented by her pale skin. And under those lids lie a pair of shimmering blue hues that captivated whomever looked upon them. Everything that was Claire Redfield, Albert Wesker loved.

Wesker's now acute hearing picked up the sound of the porch swing creaking dully yet, there was no wind.

She was there.

Carefully detaching himself from Claire, Wesker made his way to the front door, opening it with as much silence as he could muster. Turning the slight corner, Serena sat upon the swing, gazing out into the night, breath being warped into a white cloud of condensation.

"Serena." Wesker greeted quietly.

"Hey, tiger." She winked in his direction, hazel eyes scanning the area carefully.

He sat beside her, silence overtaking them. Serena dug into her jacket pocket and palmed a small syringe with a clear liquid within it.

"This is for the kid." Serena said.

Wesker's eyes softened and carefully took the syringe from her. "For Kaya?"

The younger woman nodded.

"How did you know?"

"I've been watching you for a long time, Wesker. Even before you came back to New York. When you left Prague I thought to myself, 'oh shit where the hell does he think he's going, leaving The Organization like this'. But I saw where you were headed and why you were headed there. I decided to let you have your victory because it made me happy to see you happy."

"Serena I don't know how to thank you."

"Save it," She smirked. "For another time." She patted Wesker on the shoulder and stood. "I gotta split. Alex got a little suspicious last time I left."

"I still don't believe that he didn't harm you, Serena."

She shrugged. "Believe what you want, Wesker. But this'll probably be the last time you see me for a while."

"Until next time." Wesker said, flashing the syringe. "And thank you."

"Don't mention it."

Just as fast as he thought, Serena was gone. Wesker looked down to the syringe in his hand, rolling it against his palm. He trusted Serena, in a sense but at this point in time, he had nothing to lose. None of them did.

The only thing he gave a damn about now was the medicine within in this glass and watching his daughter open her eyes once again.

**A/N: A nice long chapter for you! And if you didn****'****t read my AN at the very top, go there now and read it! (By the way, if you****'****re not familiar with 8tracks, it****'****s basically a website for mixes, a list of songs put together by people to aid in what you****'****re feeling! For example, on 8tracks, you can play yourself something ****"****sad****" ****or ****"****hype****"****. OR, you can find a mix that was created for your favorite TV show or character! For example, you can play yourself some ****"****Supernatural****" ****fan mixes or, in my case a ****"****Wesker****" ****fanmix. So go to the links at the bottom of my bio and click 8tracks. Go there, and if you would be so kind as to listen to my two newest mixes, **_**"**__**The Consummate Professional**__**" **_**(The Wesker mix) and **_**"**__**Restitution For Your Own Lack Of Insight. Failing To See The Devil Beside You**__**" **_**(The Wesker/Claire mix) Listen and tell me what you think in your review for this chapter! Thank you so very much and have a wonderful day :)**


	49. Manipulated Living

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

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><p><strong>Hello! Enjoy the chapter :)<strong>

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><p><strong>Bloody Raptor: Thank you! Your constant reviews mean a lot to me :)<strong>

**Sundragon: Thank you for all your kind words! Hope you liked the mixes :) And yes! I know! I stayed up all night that Sunday to watch the trailer! I****'****m very, **_**very **_**excited! **

**talia lightning: Hello and welcome! Thank you for your review and I do hope you can leave some more :)**

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><p><span>Chapter 49: Manipulated Living<span>

The skinny needle, so skinny almost unseeable, slipped into the plastic IV chord that delivered life itself into Kaya Redfield's veins. Wesker didn't hesitate, the very next morning he moved into the ward where she was held, he snuck in as quiet as possible, so as not to alert anyone of his presence. The one thing he didn't have time for right now was getting caught and sent to Michael. His eyes scanned over the form of his daughter lying in the hospital bed, small chest rising and falling only slightly, fleeting breaths escaping her parted lips. She was a sight for sore eyes and it twisted Wesker's heart in every which way. Her fiery auburn hair which she attributed from her mother, drenched the white pillow like stale blood. Pale skin prickled with sweat and goosebumps.

It was early when Wesker checked his wristwatch, about six in the morning. He knew that Claire would probably come looking for him soon, waking up to an empty side of a couch. There was no immediate response from Kaya and yet, Wesker didn't quite expect one. Seating himself in the chair next to her bed, he sighed heavily and lolled his head to the side to get some rest. After a few minutes, failing to keep his eyes closed, Wesker decided to stay awake just incase Kaya awoke. He focused on the faint ticking of his fathers wristwatch, the only sound to keep him company. He picked apart every level of sound that the watch made, from the ticking of the hand, to the movement of the gears within. His fingers twitched and he felt as though he needed to run a hundred miles just to rid himself of his blaring anxiety. His newfound yet familiar boost of energy was a direct result of the serum that Serena had jacked him with. If what she claimed was true, it was worth a try. Everything was worth a try.

A sound pulled him from his thoughts, a different sound than the watch. He looked up to see the door open slowly so as not to make it creak. Wesker stood, eyes adjusting to the darkness. His heart hammered in his chest when the door stopped midway of its opening, there was a cuttable silence that hung so thickly in the air, he could slice it with a knife. Whoever was on the other side was hesitating, perhaps having the same thoughts as him. Silent steps fell to the floor as Wesker made his way across the room, his right hand gripped the handle of his gun which was shoved into the belt of his pants. He grabbed the handle and gave a sharp tug on the door, stepping back to see who was halted on the other side.

"Jesus christ, Albert!" Claire hissed. "What are you doing here?"

Wesker's muscles relaxed and he released his hold on his gun. "I could ask you the same thing."

Claire said nothing after that, making it blatantly clear why she was here. She sighed and moved across the room to the side of her daughters bed. She placed a hand on her cool wrist, giving it a light and reassuring squeeze. Neither of them spoke for a while. They each stood on either side of Kaya's bed and with sad and tired eyes, looked upon the shackled form of their child.

"Albert…" Claire said quietly.

"Yes, dearheart?"

"Tell me everything is gonna be ok." Her eyes never left Kaya, nor did she look to face Wesker. Her head hung, hair blocking her face from him.

"Claire," Wesker took a step towards her. "I can't lie to you."

She shook her head and Wesker could see a few tears stream away from her shielded eyes. "Lie." She seethed. Not angrily, however, like she normally would, but rather Claire's request had a desperate plead in it.

Wesker's back straightened. "Everything is going to be alright, Claire." He said softly, the not in his stomach tightening as he lied to her.

"You promise?"

He was silent for a moment as Claire's head lifted to face him, more tears on the verge of sailing from her beautiful blue eyes. "Albert?" Claire choked on his name. "Promise?"

His hand gripped her wrists gently and he pulled her into him, tightly securing her to his chest.

"I… I promise."

XXXXX

Jill entered the home quietly, she had a beaten cardboard box under her arms as she shut the door with her foot.

"Chris?" She called. There was no answer.

Jill huffed and set the box down. There we clothes inside for the group. A woman named Bethany was nice enough to spare them for the group, knowing that they had been in the same clothes since January. She insisted on Jill taking them with her when she left the farm house. She was a sweet old woman, not really concerned on what the current situation was. She had plenty of faith in this place and it warmed Jill's heart as she remembered what she had said to her before she took her leave.

"_You know I__'__m not quick to judge and I have no reason to judge your friend.__" _

_Automatically, Jill knew whom she was speaking of. __"__Wesker isn__'__t really my friend.__" __She grumbled. _

_The old woman smiled. __"__Oh? Then what?__" _

"_He__'__s more of a comrade I guess, not even that really. Everyone has a very rough past with him.__"_

"_He__'__s not a man of his word then?__" _

_Jill shook her head. __"__No he is__… __it__'__s just he isn__'__t a man of his heart. Or, at least he never used to be.__" _

"_Troubled young man.__" __Bethany said soundly as if she had unraveled Wesker__'__s personality quicker than anyone else. _

"_I guess you could say that.__" __Jill muttered. __"__He got some sense knocked into him after his kids were born though. Made him realize that he__'__s just a simple guy trying to achieve unbelievable dreams.__" _

"_I don__'__t think he hurt that man on purpose.__" __Bethany spoke as she pushed some hay around with a rake. __"__I think he was influenced. By what? I have not the slightest clue. But there__'__s just something about the way his eyes speak.__" _

"_I don__'__t think he did it on purpose either, Beth.__" _

Jill tore herself from her thoughts when the door to the house opened and Claire walked through with Wesker in tow.

"Hey guys." She greeted warmly, kicking the box across the floor. "There's some clothes in there for you and the kids. The old farm hand, Bethany was kind enough to spare them. Said we needed a change of pace."

Claire smiled. "That's really sweet of her."

Jill pretended not to notice how stoic Wesker was acting. He seemed very different… something off put yet new. She couldn't quite place her finger on why he seemed so strange.

"Well I gotta run." Jill piped in, breaking the silence. "I promised Becca I'd hit patrol with her. Andrew's asked us to keep an extra eye on things."

"Thanks, Jill." Claire said softly.

When she was gone, Claire slumped on the couch and pulled the box towards her. She rummaged through its contents, pulled out a select few articles of clothing for herself. Wesker's boots pressed harshly against the wood floors as he approached. He knelt down, wincing from sore muscles. Sitting down across from Claire on the floor, he crossed his legs and gave her a weak smile.

"Here," Claire motioned. "These'll probably fit you." She handed him a navy work shirt, black buttons, and the faded color that accompanied it. She tossed a pair of black jean slacks in his lap. They were still dressed in their clothes from New York, now nearly ripped and nothing more than a few faded shreds.

"Could you give these to Pat? I'm gonna change." She handed him the neatly folded clothes. Wesker nodded and rose from his spot. Claire turned her back but stopped in her tracks for a moment. Wesker could feel her tension rise, she was unhappy.

"Albert…" She whispered. "Are you ok?"

He did not answer at first but he pondered on what to say. In a sense, he was just fine. The kick that Serena had given him made him feel invincible, like he could take Alex on with one hand tied behind his back. However, he knew that this was only temporary. He was just being jacked until he needed his strength the most. He only suspected that Claire didn't know about it, that she was oblivious to the minor change in his energy.

"Yes." Wesker said, his answer coming out more harsh than he had hoped. "Please don't ask me again."

Claire didn't respond. She stood there for a moment, her back turned on him. A few seconds later she left the room quietly.

Wesker sighed and ran his hands over his face. He didn't intend to sound so harsh to her. He was just sick and tired of being worried about and she knew he hated that. But it was just something Claire did through instinct. He tossed Patrick's clothes on the couch, he wasn't here at the moment. He was with Barry and Chris.

Wesker undressed himself down to his boxers, the cool air assaulting his bare skin. He unconsciously counted all of his scars from smallest to largest, trying to recall where they came from. Others were more prominent, like the one on his abdomen. It was his constant reminder of that night. It shaped itself into an almost crescent-like resemblance. Paler contrasting to his skin tone and retained a soft fleshy feel. It was quite large considering how fast it healed. The three that adorned his chest, size equal to a quarter, those were bullet wounds. And then there were slits, like the tongue of a snake, from knives buried to the hilt. Everywhere, all over his weathered skin, these scars announced themselves like annotations in a book. Every single one had a story.

The clothes were a perfect fit as Wesker tucked the blue shirt into his pants, readjusting his belt. He picked his gun up off the table and shoved it between his belt and waistband. It felt heavy there but it was a familiar feeling that aided in memories of RPD days. Without those memories, he would only have the ones he hated most. Underground labs, white halls, and blood smeared on shimmering porcine tiles. When he tried to reconcile those ones, his brain backfired violently, like a snapping gator. He hated to admit it, but those we the good days. Working for S.T.A.R.S. made him feel alive. It made him feel in control and like he was actually in charge of something. Not pretending to be in charge for the sake of keeping up a facade. Umbrella literally sucked the life out of him. He pitied William. He was his only friend, someone who confided in him and his work. The younger scientists life was cut much too short and it left a little gaping hole in Wesker's heart. He felt guilty that night he left him at the facility. Papers tossed about the room as William began a panic attack. Wesker only watched him slam his fist into the control panel, throw his papers about, and mutter under his breath.

"_The virus is out__…" __William said, his green eyes glued to the monitors. He spun around in his chair and rose to his feet. __"__We can__'__t hide this anymore, Al!__" _

"_It appears Umbrella is finished.__" __Wesker deadpanned, readjusting his tactical vest. Wesker was silent for a moment but he then turned to leave William with the problem. _

"_You__'__re just gonna walk away?__" __He shouted. __"__Our research isn__'__t complete! We can make a more powerful virus!__" _

_Wesker halted in his steps, turning his head and looking over his shoulder at his friend. _

"_Do as you like.__" __Wesker said dryly. __"__The T-Virus is near completion and only needs test data.__" __Wesker cocked his gun, placing it back into the holster. __"__That is why S.T.A.R.S. is in place__… __I will bring them into the mansion tonight.__"_

_William began to panic, his breath was becoming labored as he turned around and kicked the chair away from the desk. _

_Wesker sighed. __"__Please calm down, William.__" _

"_What do you want me to do, Al?__" __He asked, looking to his friend. _

"_Destroy this facility immediately.__"_

_William looked back at the monitors. __"__What about the BOW__'__s?__" _

_Wesker paused for a moment to think about them. They were William__'__s pride and joy at the moment. Each and every one created and handled with care. _

"_Release them.__" _

Wesker ran a hand over his eyes. They blazing a harsh red that could only be rivaled by flowing lava. The veins in his arms protruded as he clenched his fists, working out the stiffness in his knuckles. The voice of William rang in his head like a siren.

"_What do you want me to do, Al?__" _

To live. That's what Wesker wanted from him. How disappointing.

XXXX

"You have no idea how hard I've worked on this…" Michael muttered.

"You're work will not go unnoticed, I assure you."

"You want me to throw all of this away just because you ask me to?"

"I'm not asking I'm telling."

The older man turned around. "Look, I did what you've asked. I put the kibosh to your brother, don't you think that's enough?"

Alex chuckled darkly and readjusted the cuffs on his perfectly tailored suit. His eyes burned harshly and with a simple flick of his wrist, he had Michael up against the wall.

"It's enough when I say." He seethed. "Your work here is far from over so don't think I'm going to let you off the hook that easy." He dropped the older man onto the ground.

"Lying isn't going to get us where we need to go." Alex observed. "At least not for much longer."

"I think Chris is starting to suspect something isn't right." Michael panted, rubbing his hand on his neck.

Alex turned to face him. His slender form wavered for a moment when he heard the word 'suspect'. He already had his brother to worry about and he most certainly didn't need that girls brother as a problem either.

"Redfield's brother?"

Michael nodded.

"I'm sure you can handle it, can't you? Or do I have to do everything for you?"

"You came to me and promised salvation from the things out there." He shouted, pointing out the window. "You can only ask me to do so much before I'm caught."

"Fine." Alex retorted. "I shall take it upon myself."

"What are you going to do to him?" Michael muttered, almost as if he was afraid of the answer.

"Don't concern yourself with it."

XXXXX

"I have a task for you, Miss Mills." Alex announced when he got back into the car a few miles outside of the walls.

She sighed and continued filing her nails, inspecting them from time to time.

Alex told her to drive and as she began to roll down a dirt path, he placed a gun in her lap and she stiffened.

"I need you to dispose of a Mr. Christopher Redfield."

Serena slammed on the brakes and she turned to face Alex. "That wasn't apart of our deal."

"I'm altering our deal," Alex cautioned. "And you should do as I say for the consequences are worse than you can imagine."

"I wont do it, Alex. Albert will suspect something as soon as they find Chris with a bullet in his brain. Or have we forgotten how smart he _really _is?"

The younger Wesker's lip twitched in anger. She was right. When they found Chris dead, Wesker would surly suspect something.

"You can't just go around picking people off. Albert is just as smart as you, if not smarter and as soon as he catches wind of you mucking around playing assassin, he'll get off his ass and do something."

Alex clenched his jaw in frustration. "Fine." He growled. "I'll figure something else out then. Drive."

Serena rolled her eyes as she watched Alex cross his arms and lean back into his seat. She inwardly scoffed at how immature he was acting. She stepped on the gas, reaching well past eighty miles per hour, the black car whizzing through the empty road. The skies were gray, no indication of the sun setting. A heavy fog, almost like a thick cloud, hung in the air like pollution. It made Serena's stomach turn. It had only been a few months since this little section of New York was barricaded off from the rest of the world. They said help would come and it never did. She knew that people must be losing hope by now. The had Eden, which was safe in some respect, but it wouldn't hold out forever.

_Back to the Batcave__… _Serena thought to herself. Her and Alex stayed in a system of underground tunnels and labs. They once belonged to Umbrella but had long since been abandoned. The musty smells that wafted through them were enough to make one sick, especially to them, for their noses were highly sensitive. She couldn't stop thinking about what Alex planned on doing to Chris. Whatever he was plotting, he was doing it to cause a ruckus. That was just the way the younger Wesker played. She compared the brothers, how they were similar, how they were different.

Albert was very calculating. He was a consummate professional. He took pride in this professionalism and and intolerance lack thereof. He coded himself with strict conduct and work ethic. Meticulous but had a bad attitude.

Alex, on the other hand, was simply ignorant. However just as calculating as his older brother, Alex lacked patience and that was his downfall. He swam in other peoples sorrow.

And like most siblings, the two Wesker boys shared something that they harbored toward one another: violence. They were animals, beasts of burden. Albert was an old alpha while Alex was a rising beta. They both fought for top tier. She admired Albert's strength and yet, she admired Alex's manners. However the admiration held for Alex did not extend to respect. She had none for him.

"Serena?" Alex mused.

She sighed. "What?"

Dark shadows played over his features and the shimmer of his red hues led her to think there was a living fire behind them.

"If I catch you sneaking around again… I'll kill him before his time is due." Alex's tone was deridingly terrifying.

He wasn't lying.

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this one is kind of boring but it leads into a very intense chapter coming up. Don****'****t forget to leave a review! It really helps me out! _*****ALSO THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT*****_ I'm gonna be starting another multi-chapter wesker/claire fic called empathy and apathy. I'm really only doing it so as things start to wrap up here with SOM, that can take over. Also because I constantly need something fresh to work on while I write SOM. SOM is a _big _fic... I'm estimating about 60 chapters when it's completed, maybe a bit more. Empathy and Apathy will take its place when it's over so I hope, that after SOM is over, you can all transition into reading that. The first chapter should be up sometime this month and it would really mean a lot to me if you could look out for it and when it _is _up, give it a read! **


	50. No Church In The Wild

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

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><p><strong>Wow guys sorry for the late update! I just got a job so I<strong>**'****m really focused on not screwing that up and I also have spring break nearing and I****'****m just busy with school and blah blah blah. BUT, I haven****'****t forgotten about you guys :) We hit an amazing milestone with 50 chapters! Do you guys remember when this little guy was only 10 chapters? Now it****'****s all grown up!**

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><p><em><strong>Sundragon: You don<strong>__**'**__**t like Jake!? I loved him! I thought he was badass, funny, and he looked just like Wesker so it kinda made me sad. But, I really liked his character. Thank you for the compliments on the mixes! I actually just added a few new song to the Wesker mix and the Wesker/Claire mix so you should check em out! Thank you for the review, I always appreciate your kind words :)**_

_**TanuSherry: I hope you get better! Thank you for all your praise! It really means a lot to me and I always love new readers! Stick around, my friend! It will be greatly appreciated. **_

_**bloodyraptor: Read on!**_

_**lostsoul512: You, my friend, are right and I haven**__**'**__**t gone back to fix that yet. I usually edit all the chapters AFTER the story is complete but thank you for pointing it out :)**_

_**MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: Welcome back! Your predictions are interesting however, you**__**'**__**ll just have to wait and see what happens to our beloved characters as they find themselves in a more trouble than they bargained for these coming chapters!**_

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><p><span>Chapter 50: No Church In The Wild<span>

The small fireplace at the front of the room warmed up the little area that Kaya was staying in. Her 'hospital' room was dull, light blue walls and a beige door, one window, and said fireplace. Wesker rearranged the logs and coals with the fire-poker, giving it some gaps so it could breath. It had been almost two days since her administered the medicine that Serena had given him. No sign of consciousness.

None.

He was beginning to get frustrated. It seemed as if all this hassle was for nothing. Just an empty hope that she placed in his hands. However, Wesker knew better than to hope. It was foolish to believe in something that was never guaranteed to come to be. As the fireplace cracked and popped, he placed his hands toward it, warming them in this unusual cold spell the day was having. His chair was pulled close to the fire, his body temperature oddly cold for the day. He felt fine, in fact, he felt better than fine. He felt powerful. However, the cold was starting to get under his skin. Metaphorically and literally.

His burning red eyes, eyes that renewed their former rubicund glower, flicked to where his daughter was sleeping. Sleeping in an endless nightmare that he begged she would wake from soon. The door opened. It was Claire, he knew it was her. He smelled her a hundred feet away.

"Anything?" She asked lowly.

"Nothing." He replied.

Her shoulders slumped and her lips parted a sigh, making her way to the bed. She stroked her daughters auburn hair, muttering something under her breath.

"Claire…" Wesker asked her from across the room. "You haven't given up in the past so there is no reason to give up now. Right now when she needs us the most."

Claire stood, her back turned to him. He could see her hands clench into fists, fingernails digging into her palms. "I haven't given up." She ground out. "I won't _ever _give up, Albert." She turned to face him, her blue eyes sparking with passion for her words. "And don't you _ever _assume I would."

"I wasn't making assumptions, dearheart. I would never assume you." His words were quiet, almost as if he was trying to salvage what he had said to her previously. Those words were treading on Claire's now fragile heart.

Claire did not look up at him again. She walked towards the front door, bushing past him as if he was a cloud of dust standing in her way. She slammed the door and it rattled the windows of the room. Wesker winced at that sound and felt as though it shattered his spirit just a little more. He could feel her fear and rage in the air. It hung like a thick fog, solidifying itself into the panels of wood on the ground. He could smell the way her heartbreak flickered like a dying candle, unable to reignite.

And it broke him to see her broken.

XXXXX

"The only thing you've ever done for me was my family and my children… so why can't you give me something else? I've done nothing but good in the past twelve years of my life but you're taking everything away from me _now? _Why now? Why me…?"

Claire's tearstained eyes looked up to the tall, wooden carved statue of Jesus Christ. His arms tethered weakly to the cross against his back. His thorn-ridden crown punctured his forehead, blood oozing from his wounds. His head lulled to the side, sadness peaked over every singe feature. She had only been to church once, with her parents when she was young but she felt as though she had nowhere else to turn. Her world, her perfect little world was starting to crash down around her and she had no power to stop it. She felt cheated. Cheated and beaten.

"It's not fair…" She muttered. "Not fair at all. I've done everything I can and still you continue to punish me?"

Her hands tightened around the back of the pew in front of her. "What's it gonna take, buddy?" She smirked a little, sadness laced within it. "What's it gonna take to rid me of all this shit that you've dumped on me?"

Looked back to the alter, she searched the features of the the wooden statue as if he would raise his head and speak.

"I don't even believe in you and yet, here I am… Here I am praying to someone that I don't even care about and to have my prayer fall on the ears of someone who doesn't even care about me."

Claire's tears were beginning to dry and she sucked in a breath of the musty air that the church withheld. "You don't care enough about me and my family to give us a break. And Albert… Albert isn't your target. He isn't your little plaything that you can knock around in the dirt…"

She stood up, stumbling a little from being lightheaded. She clenched her fists again, shaking her head and looking to that damned statue again.

"He's more of a man than you will _ever _be!" Her screaming echoed through the empty church. She chuckled to herself, a small exhausted sound. "There's no church in the wild, you bastard."

XXXXX

"Why won't you wake up, darling…?" Wesker's voice was fleeting, lost in the dark of the room. He hadn't left at all today, hoping that she'd come to, Wesker wanted to be there when she did. He was beginning to think that whatever Serena had given him was just a fake, something to get his hopes up and in turn, get his spirit up for facing his brother. But he digressed, she wasn't that kind of person. Or so he thought. In fact, he didn't really know her at all. She was just some girl he picked up off the street on cold night, telling her that he would take her home. He was a better liar back then.

Wesker's hand was on Kaya's and for a brief moment, he felt her fingers twitch. His eyes widened and he stood from his chair, looming his large form over her.

"Kaya…?" He whispered her name loud enough for her to hear.

The girl's breath hitched in her throat and her now skinny frame shot up like a bullet, eyes wild with confusion.

Wesker fell to his knees, gripping his daughters hands. He smiled wide, possibly the happiest he had ever been.

"Dad…?" Her voice was weak but urgent.

Wesker pulled her against his chest and she could feel her arms tighten around his waist, silent sobbing in his ear.

"Hush, sweetie… everything is fine. Everything is just fine."

"What happened to me?" Kaya's voice was hoarse and Wesker grabbed the small cup of water by her bedside.

He handed her the cup. "Drink and I'll tell you."

She did as she was told and she gripped the cup with her small hands, bringing it to her lips, she downed the whole thing with large gulps, desperate for hydration and the cool sensation that flooded her entire body. She sighed heavily, relief washing through her like the water.

Wesker held her face in his hands, his red eyes softening at the very face he thought would never express again.

"My sweet girl…" His thumbs ran across her cheeks, a smile returning. "You've been in a coma for the past 2 months… It was my fault. I didn't mean to… to put you in any kind of danger."

"Mommy said you never meant to hurt anybody." Her sparkling blue eyes reassured him with a glint with the never-ending hope of a child. "I forgive you, daddy. Whatever you did I forgive you."

Wesker nodded and hugged her again. "Thank you." He rose up and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. "I'm going to get you mother and bring her here to see you, ok?"

The girl nodded and smiled.

Wesker exited the building in the dark, making his way back to the house he stayed in.

He practically broke down the door and the congregation of people in the living room turned their heads. Chris looked sour as Wesker jogged in, panting a little from the run over.

"She's awake." He stated.

Claire's eyes automatically filled with tears and she rose up from her spot on the couch. Without a word, she flung open the door and began running as fast as her legs would carry her towards the makeshift hospital.

"Mommy!" Kaya shouted when Claire ran through the door. She held her daughter as close as she could to her, Claire's sobs racking her body.

Wesker stood in the door with Chris and Patrick behind him and he watched. Just watched as Claire was reunited with Kaya. Her tears were happy. Finally happy.

"I will never let anything bad ever happen to you ever again, baby." She held her daughters face in her hands. "I promise."

Everyone slept soundly that night. The empty cot next to Patrick was finally filled and it was almost as if the world stood still for the moment. The town was quiet, peacefully quiet. No one was stirring in the dark. No nightmares, mental or physical, plagued the unilluminated sector of presumed safety.

Claire, however was awake. Wesker breathing soundly next to her. Her emotions were still on hyperdrive. She was exited beyond belief. Months of bad luck had finally began to fall away. Kaya was awake and right now, that was all she cared about. Her daughter was finally able to breath fresh air, interact with her surroundings, and _live._

Making a full recovery, Kaya would be able to run and play like normal within a few days. Claire and Wesker discussed her situation, to treat it with care. Their daughter had been asleep for two months and a lot had changed. However, the parents weren't about to let that influence Kaya's life, or Patrick's for that matter. They were children. However, much to Claire's dismay, every singe day that passed in this scum-ridden world, she saw her son grow more calloused. He was becoming a man right before her eyes and it saddened her to the core. Kaya, on the other hand, was still slightly oblivious to a reality that was dawning upon them all. Claire and Wesker had to explain to her that the town was sick and that it wasn't safe. She had fallen in her coma about a week before it all went to hell. They had to tread carefully around her for her mind was still set on that life was life.

And yet, Kaya understood. She took into account everything her parents said and accepted that life _wasn__'__t_ life anymore but that this place was safe enough for them until help came. Wesker and Claire disregarded telling her about Alex and Michael, seemingly the young girl wouldn't understand why two men were trying to kill her father. She was innocent yet, the scales were falling from her eyes and it was almost her time to become stronger like her brother. To face the world and what it had to offer now.

Death.

Claire tried to expel those thoughts from her mind and instead, think about her family that had finally been stitched back together. Wesker was beginning to show signs of recovery, unbeknownst to the reason of his refined state. Patrick was growing up, tagging along with Chris and the others, learning how to use a gun.

_Just in case. _

Chris' words rang in her ears. At first she was opposed to Patrick learning how to use a gun, claiming it wasn't necessary. But, and Wesker actually agreed with Chris on something, the men had told Claire that she was his age when she learned how to use a gun and that it would protect him if anything was to happen. He needed to learn how to protect himself and others and the only way he could do that was to pack a pound in his waist like everyone else. And finally, Kaya. After two grueling months of being submerged in a never-ending nightmare, she was finally conscious. And that was all Claire wanted.

She smiled to herself in the dark of the room, Wesker stirring next to her, muttering something in his sleep. The night was growing old and morning would soon wake. She yawned, cuddling against Wesker as his intense heat radiated off of him like a furnace. Claire smiled again, feeling giddy for the morning. To wake up with her daughter berating fresh air and playing under the sun that had been showing itself lately. She felt as if the world had halted just for her, something that she hadn't felt in years.

Maybe, just maybe there _was_ a church in the wild.

**A/N: Hey guys! It****'****s been a month, I know but it****'****s been a busy month for me. My life is FINALLY starting to come together and things are falling into place just the way I want them to. So things around here might be slowing down but I won****'****t forget about you guys! Your continuous reading and reviewing mean a lot to me, as you should know by now, and your actions, however small they may seem to you, really inspire me to continue writing! So stick around for the next chapter of SOM. I love you guys! **


	51. Fake Empire

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

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><p><strong>Hello! And to tell you all, Shadow Of Me is nearing the end. Which, in retrospect, is very sad considering that it's been my largest work and it was started in 2011. That, my friends is a long time to be continuously working on something! Now, if you're not reading my new fic, Empathy and Apathy, that's basically the fic that will take over once SOM is done. It's not a sequel, it's an entirely different story that I hope you can all take a look at! Enjoy this chapter… in which… <strong>_**shit goes down.**_

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><p><em><strong>MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: Here is your dose of SOM! Enjoy!<strong>_

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 51: Fake Empire<span>**

He marched.

Like a solider to war. Yet, he was unfamiliar with the front lines. Only behind a gun once to shoot an innocent animal, did Michael yield such a weapon. It felt heavy in his hands, almost as if it didn't belong there at all. He was not a murderer and even though he had killed for survival, bluffing was his a-game.

He always won poker.

The paths felt harsh under his boots. The dark clouding his vision. The cold blanketing him like a unwelcome welcome. Everything around him felt surreal, as if he was encroaching upon his task in slow motion. Every single breath exhaled from old lungs, warped into a sharp white cloud. His eyes looked from side-to-side… watching out for himself in a circle. His hands gripped the gun tighter and the screen door before him smacked against the frame lightly from the wind. He used one hand to swing the door open, gun in the other. He stood in the darkness of the house. His breath the only sound meeting his ears.

_It isn't as bad as it sounds. _

_It's just a gun. _

_Put a bullet in his head and we'll be moving on. _

_I only want the girl. _

Alex's words rang in his head. He asked him, no… commanded him to kill his brother. He claimed it would be too easy for him to do it himself. He didn't care about his suffering anymore. Alex simply wanted Wesker dead and gone so he could carry out the remainder of his plan.

Claire.

He had been weighing on what to do with her since he sought Wesker out in New York. She was Wesker's lifeline. However, Alex thought it much more sinful to take her _after _the man was dead. Just to spite him after he was rotting in the ground. She would aid is ultimate cause.

Renewal.

The younger Wesker needed her body. She had birthed Wesker's children and now she would birth his. What better way to enact revenge on his brother than to kill him first, _then _impregnate the woman he loved. Alex's twisted epiphany came to him when he heard that the girl had awaken from her coma. He needed both of his brothers children to enact his deviousness. He was a lone male lion, searching for his new pride. That new pride being Claire. And like a lone male lion, he would kill off any _cubs_ that posed a threat to him and his prize.

Michael was in too deep to claw himself out. His only intention was to forge a safe place for survivors. Not to kill them. Yet, it has now since been turned into something quite unlike it. Now with the gun shaking in his unsteady hands, Michael swallowed the lump in his throat and took a step into the threshold. Holding his breath, he took one small step at a time, making damned sure he didn't make any noise. His eyes were turned on the couch where he could see Claire sleeping soundly.

Wesker nowhere to be found.

Suddenly, he felt an iron grip clamp around his throat and mouth, muffling his shouts. He was being dragged back outside, the gun waving wildly about, finger inching for the trigger. However, his assailant was quicker and was already disarming him, removing his hand from his throat to grab the gun. Michael squirmed against them but to no avail. They were a statue of marble. He felt himself being lifted off the ground as if he weighed nothing but a feather. His body hit the ground hard, knocking the wind right from his lungs, his borrowed gun clattering away from him.

Michael scrambled to get his priorities straight after almost being knocked senseless. The darkness was engulfing him, his vision straining to see who was attacking him. But a deep and menacing baritone voice did nothing for his nerves.

"Michael." Wesker spoke lowly, keeling down beside him, pressing his boot into his shoulder, digging it painfully into the ground. "I was expecting you."

The older mans eyes swam with fear, his breath was labored, hand inching for the gun that was mere centimeters from his grasp.

"I thought my brother would have taught you better than to sneak around at night… when I myself prefer not to sleep." Wesker chuckled to himself, obviously enjoying his little catch. His eyes flashed dangerously, the shining red mingling with the darkness. They burst with a fiery fixation, one that Michael couldn't hold for much longer. He saw severity in them. One that was unlike any beast he had ever seen. The most ferocious animals did not hold a candle to how Wesker's eyes burned in the dark.

Wesker took an almost unnoticeable whiff from the air. "I could smell you… I could feel your air." His words were languid, yet menacing. "You underestimate me."

"No…" Michael said quickly. "I would never." He shook his head frantically, fear crossing his features. He knew.

"Oh," Wesker mused with a disturbing smile. "But you have." One of his large hands lashed out and gripped Michael right around the neck. Squeezing harshly, Wesker watched him squirm under his boot. He released his hold, Michael sucking in air, hacking when he swallowed too much.

Wesker leaned down, his back arching like a deadly cobra. That nefarious smile that plastered itself on his face, disappeared and was replaced by an animalistic snarl. Wesker's claw-like hand came down upon Michael's eye socket, crushing the bones around the eye. Michael's scream was muffled by Wesker's heavy arm that lapsed itself over his mouth. His fingers dug into the eye socket, a sickening crunch welled in his ears as Wesker began to gouge out his eye. His used a finger to fish it out, blood pooling in copious gouts, like buckets pouring from a basin. Wesker crushed the organ with his hand, flicking the blood from his fingertips.

"Next time you _see_ my brother," Wesker began with a smug smirk. "Tell him that I am ready. And that I am going to kill him."

XXXXX

"He mad a damned fool out of you." Alex seethed. Michael's bloodied face, still not cleaned from the night before, was withered by fear.

"My eye…" He muttered, mostly to himself as he looked into the grungy mirror that hung on the wall.

Alex pursed his lips in distaste. "What did he tell you?"

"He said that he's ready… and that he's going to kill you."

The younger Wesker chuckled darkly, adopting the likeness of the older Wesker in a disturbing way that sent shivers down Michael's spine. He fingered the deep red tie, letting the silk brush over his skin. His unshaded orange-burst eyes glowered with thought as he pondered quietly to himself. Michael did not need further convincing that the two were brothers. However from different mother, Albert and Alex Wesker together, harbored something that their father had given them both.

Hate.

It drove them. It's what made them get up in the morning to face. They each filtered it differently and yet they each had it out for the other. Wesker hated Alex because of his ignorance. His blind faith in their father that never died off. And Alex hated Wesker because he robbed him of that faith.

"Do you have men ready to fight?" Alex inquired, turning back to face Michael.

The older man nodded. "Yes. Some of them have experience, most of them know how to shoot a gun. Assuming that's all you need."

"Guns and a willing to die for our cause." Alex squeezed a hand upon Michael's shoulder and smiled wickedly. "You and I are going home."

Michael seemed utterly enthralled by the man before him. His composure spoke that of professionalism, godlike at that. He was a spectacle to be witnessed and he spoke in such a tone, that it almost reassured you that everything was going to be just fine. Alex was a manipulator yet he made it feel as though you weren't apart of that manipulation. Hypnotized by his words, Michael needed nothing more than a word from him and he would carry out his bidding.

"Gather your men and congregate each of them here. I will speak to them accordingly." He flattened out his black dress shirt. "Until then, steer clear of my brother and his little gang of freedom fighters."

Michael nodded as Alex began to head for the door. "What if I get caught?" He blurted.

Alex turned his head to look over his shoulder, eyes flashing dangerously. "You better make sure you don't."

He was gone. Michael shivered at the very thought of Albert Wesker. He was not unlike anything he had ever seen. In fact, both of the Wesker brothers were something godlike that was too frightening to be reality. The world was an interesting place that could produce very interesting humans. Albert and Alex Wesker were the perfect examples of those things sometimes born in hospitals. They look normal, feel normal, even sound normal. They don't put it on the machines. They try and let it die… but it doesn't and they're forced to keep it warm. Keep it fed. He's a monster. But nobody could tell the difference.

He picked up his radio and called Rocky, the front gate guard. He ordered him to gather all the men in the town, anyone able to use a gun and to meet him at his home as soon as possible.

Accordingly, nearly twenty men and women appeared ready for what seemed like war. Each of them marveled at his missing eye, blood seeping through the white gauze. He gazed at the filled room and spied Andrew in the back, watching his father was a stoic gaze.

"I have called you all here today to ask you to fight alongside me. The time for survival is now." Michael paced back and forth, his balance regaining. He pointed to the gauze wrapping his face. "Wesker did this. He mercilessly robbed me of my vision. What the prophet said was true. His reckoning his nigh. He will _kill _us all if we do not take action!"

The room erupted in cheers.

Andrew took his leave, going unnoticed by his father. He jogged towards Jill, who was standing outside of the house she stayed in with Rebecca. Knocking on the door frantically, the older woman answered with a smile.

"Hey bud." She greeted.

"Michael is planning on killing Wesker_ today_. He's got at least twenty people with guns all ready to storm that house and shoot him down."

Jill's lips tightened and she gripped the handle of her gun that sat in the thigh holster. "Go get Chris." She seethed.

Andrew nodded and began running down the road towards Chris' house. Jill closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh scent of the air today… for it might be her last.

XXXXX

Wesker cocked his gun, strapping it into his belt. He readjusted the blue work-down, and pushed his hair back.

"You look better." Claire mentioned as she holstered her gun. "A lot better."

Wesker nodded lightly. "I had some help."

Claire's eyebrows knitted. "Help?"

"An old friend." Wesker muttered. "She's been working for Alex… more so enslaved by him."

Claire felt a pang of jealously rip through her like a lightning bolt. Another woman who was an 'old friend'? If she was old as she thought, then he would've known her years before he met Claire. She resisted saying anything to him when she heard him leave late in the night. She merely thought he was sitting out to get fresh air. But he was seeing her.

"Is that where you've been going at night?" Claire asked quietly.

"It's not what you think." Wesker walked towards her form slouching on the edge of the couch. He knelt down in front of her and lifted her chin with a finger. "She's been giving me injections." He showed her the crook of his arm where small bruises were forming. "Saving my life."

Claire was blinded by jealousy. Partially because _she _couldn't save Wesker and that made her felt guilty. She never thought she would be the jealous type. Yet, here she was practically sobbing over the fact that there was some insignificant woman in Wesker's life. She did not look at him in the eyes. Eyes that now burned brighter than ever.

"Do you love her?" Claire choked. It was a stupid question that stupid women asked in corny love stories. She already knew the answer.

Wesker frowned and gripped the sides of Claire's face, gently forcing her to look at him. "No." He spoke sternly. "And I never did. She was an experiment that I tried to save. I lost her after Raccoon."

Wesker pulled her into him and she gripped his shirt as though she thought she might drown without him. He buried his face into the crook of her neck, kissing her there. Right now was no time for sorrow. People were throwing their lives on the line for him and regret hung in the air. Each and every one of them was going to war for him. Vengeance and grudges were being tossed out of the window and now they needed to trust him.

"We should go." He spoke. His voice muffled by her hair.

The two joined Chris, Barry, Billy, Rebecca, Jill, and Andrew at the front of the house. However, severely outnumbered, they each had years of experience, save for Andrew, that Michael's men did not.

Chris stood in the front, like the leader he was always born to be.

"First of all, I'd like to thank Andrew for giving us this intel. Without it, one of us would be dead." He ran a calloused hand down his face, sighing deeply. "And we can't lose Wesker. However the weakest link, he's also the strongest."

Wesker clenched his jaw at his words, yet appreciated them. Claire gripped his hand tightly and listened as Chris continued.

"Each of us here have years of training and experience so, Andrew," He turned to the younger man. "I'm going to have to ask you to stay inside the house and watch Patrick and Kaya."

Andrew nodded. "I would be quite useless with a gun to be honest."

Chris unholstered his backup pistol and handed it Andrew, handle first. "Take that, Barry will give you a crash course on how to use it." The gun weighed heavy in his hands. "Only shoot when you have to."

Barry motioned to Andrew who followed him into the other room. The others turned their attention back to Chris.

"We don't have to kill anyone. I don't wanna kill anyone. And I'm sure none of you wanna kill anyone either. But we have to protect each other. Simple as that." He pointed to the door. "They will come. And they will fight." His arm came around and pointed to Wesker. "They want you. And Michael will do anything to _get_ you."

Wesker smirked wickedly, holstering his infamous Samurai Edge. "Let them come."

They filed out, the porch creaking under their weight. Michael was standing there, men at the ready.

It was like a gunsling at high noon.

The dirty faces of the men and women before him somewhat saddened Chris. They were blinded by their faith in this man. Blinded by a false devotion that would let them down in the end. There was no god. At least not anymore. Years and years of this had calloused Chris. Years and years of running from a nightmare he knew he would never escape. And maybe… just _maybe _he turned around to face that nightmare because he knew he could fight it. He knew he could survive it. Whatever the darkness had coughed out on him, he had beaten down into the dirt. Arklay. Raccoon. Rockfort. They all represented a time in his life where survival was his only friend. A shadow that lurked like death. The very thought of helping Wesker would have disgusted him months earlier but now, at this very moment, as he was surrounded by his friends, ready to take on this threat, he felt connected to him. He could feel the oppression radiate off of him like heat to a furnace. He now knew, after all these years, what _really _made that man run.

It wasn't because he was a coward. It wasn't because he didn't feel responsible for Claire. No, it was the very fact that wherever he would go, someone would be after his head. It was a simple fact that even now, Wesker nor Chris could deny. A pang of stupidity hit him and he mentally shunned himself for not seeing this sooner.

However, the book of Wesker and Chris would _always _be open and would never close. The incidents that his very hand caused, Chris would never forgive him for. But his personal relationship with a man he once trusted, was now beginning to heal.

Now he was ready to fight for him.

"He ain't goin' nowhere." Chris shouted. "And if you want him, you're gonna have to get through us."

Michael shrugged. "Easy." The crowd behind him all raised their guns. "No one has to get hurt, Chris. No one has to die."

Chris shook his head. "It's too late for that now, Michael. You've threatened my people. My _friends. _You either walk away right now…" Chris cocked his pistol and everyone followed suit.

"Or regret it."

**A/N: Where did everybody go?**


	52. Tooth And Claw

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

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><p><strong>Hello everyone, thank you for reading and reviewing, it really help me out. Enjoy the chapter!<strong>

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><p><em><strong>fluffybunny4eva<strong>__**: Here**__**'**__**s your update! I**__**'**__**m glad that you**__**'**__**re enjoying it so far!**_

_**MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: It means a lot to me that you**__**'**__**ve kept up with this fic since the beginning and I**__**'**__**m glad to hear that you**__**'**__**re taking an interest in E&A!**_

_**TanuSherry: AAAND IN THIS CORNER, THE ROUGH THE TOUGH, ALBERT WESKER. AND IN THIS CORNER, THE SLY, THE MANIPULATOR, ALEX WESKER. **_

_**Sundragon: You missed 2x03? It was awesome! (as usual) but 2x04 was even better! When I said that I added new songs, I went back and added MORE songs lmao! So now there should be 4 new ones. Yes, hope**__**… **__**however, my dearest Sundragon**__**… **__**hope can be a cruel thing. **_

_**Red Turk: I GOT YOUR MESSAGE AND I'M STILL FREAKIN' OUT. **_

—_**-**_

Chapter 52: Tooth And Claw

The faces of the plenty. Scattered in that small group were the ubiquitous expressions of blinded fools. Following only for the words of one man who claimed to be a servant of God. But who was God these days? Surly 'God' did not intend to single out that city, wipe it clean, shower it with blood and gore, shouting to that masses "SURVIVE OR DIE."

Surly that wasn't him…

But who was God these days?

"We don't want any trouble, Chris." Michael pleaded. "Just give us what we want and you can stay. You can live here in peace."

Chris' eyes scanned Michael's face. He was uncertain, he could see it in the older mans eyes. The bluff he was playing was beginning to fall apart. And Chris could see right through him. Fear marked itself upon him. Fear for his whipping master would do.

"It's not gonna be that easy, Michael." Chris gave a shrug. A lax, easy lift of his broad shoulder. His brown eyebrow rose amusedly. "Wesker ain't goin' nowhere without a fight." He tightened his large hand around the machete that holstered itself on his side belt. Drawing it out, the metal scraping against the leather, he pointed it to Michael. "And you can tell _that _to your little boss."

"We outnumber you!" Someone in the crowd shouted.

The remainder of the men and women voiced in agreement.

"You may have more men." Chris barked. "But we will _always _have more heart."

A slow clapping backed itself from the crowd and Alex's smug form wavered to the front. His smirk was plastered to his tanned face, red tie billowing in the small breeze kicking up. He took his stand next to Michael and halted his mockery.

"But heart, dear Chris, does not win wars." His eyes averted to his brother who was standing behind the other man. "That heart gets ripped out and stepped on."

Other townspeople began emerging from their homes, wondering of the sounds they were causing. They saw the two groups facing off like a shootout at high noon. Gathering around them like a crowd at a boxing match, dirty faces scanned over their leader and the wandering folk who stumbled upon them that day.

"You are sending your people to a battle that they can't win!" Chris shouted. He pointed his blade to the crowds surrounding him. "You have no right to sacrifice them for your cause!"

"He is wrong!" Michael retorted. "You serve me and ultimately, God himself!"

Chris shook his head. "This isn't about God, people! This is about standing up for what you _really _believe in. Do you _really _believe that this man can lead you to salvation? Look at what he's done! He has divided you… turned you into a house of fighters or onlookers."

Chris's hazel eyes scanned the congregation before him. Each and every one of them, dirt covered faces, had a light behind their eyes that he knew would spark.

"You can choose to fight or to fall. And if you fight alongside us, I can promise you a light at the end. Not a foolish ambition for something that isn't even palpable. I can promise you survival."

Feet began shuffling towards the small band of friends and family that Chris withheld. Those faces nodded as they passed him by, standing behind him to take their place in their fight. Ten became twenty, twenty became thirty. Soon, the two sides equalled amounts.

One house divided.

"If you decide to stay with those _fools, _then you choose to die with them." Michael spat.

Worn feet were rooted to the ground. They were here to stay. Here to defend a man that they once feared. Staring down the face of death did each one of them say a silent prayer for the other. For today were their final days. Sustained by hope, the feel of the fight. Eyes stone with bravery, hearts full with courage. Weaponless yet armed with a fury of many. Backed into a corner yet ferocious as a thousand beasts.

To war.

"They die for you, brother." Alex chimed. "How useless."

Wesker came to the front, each step falling to the stone like heavy paws of a the feral wolf. The fresh, crisp air circulated through his veins like the virus flowing through them. He could feel the trees in his limbs, the wind in his ear,s and the cold in his lungs. Stone under his boots like the callouses of his fists, the momentum of the trees like the muscles of his body. All of his senses connected to the earth. Once again, they were one.

He was The Wilderness.

Fierce. Unpredictable. Mighty.

"They choose to fight for righteousness. Not for greed." The glowing of his hell-forged eyes burned with an intensity that none could rival. Like a burst from the sun did they glower with such magnificence. "They will die with honor. Something you will never know"

Alex chuckled darkly and opened his arms like a dark dragon spreading his wings. "Then come." His orange eyes ignited brightly, wicked smile spreading across his features. "Show me what honor is."

Gun shots rang out like eruptions of thunder, shouts of men bellowed in the air. Hands grappled together, locking through and through. A cacophony of sounds crashed upon Wesker's ears but he was only interesting in the man before him. Limber and slim, smug and powerful. Inches taller than his little brother yet the power that radiated from his was almost unbearable. He was within the likes of an indestructible force sent to destroy him.

"Come to die, Albert?" He said softly, almost as if he was saddened for his foolish other half.

"I've Come to face the past, Alexander." Wesker confirmed.

"Foolish." Alex deadpanned.

"Likewise."

As if they were connected by the same strings of the puppet master, the brothers whipped their guns from their holsters and began firing off shots. They dodged them easily, the unsteady aim of a moving hand. Clips were empty and Alex tossed his pistol on the ground whereas Wesker holstered his.

They stood, guns virtually useless in the dust of their wakes. Wesker could feel his adrenaline skyrocket like it had never before. Every singe nerve was on fire, ready for a pounce. One move would send him reeling into a fight that he knew he could either win… or die trying.

Alex made his move first, rushing his older brother with a straight to the jaw. It connected but his victory was short lived. Wesker's fist was flying right for him, speed matched that of his and a pang of uncertainty shot through Alex Wesker's veins.

He was fast.

Faster than he had anticipated.

Swiftly yet precisely, each punch was delivered and blocked. The two exchanged them with utmost precision. They were trained for this, _created _for this. Their skill was unmatched to anything or anyone else in the world. They were two of a kind. Godlike in nature, fierce, and killer-born.

A true Wesker.

Alex managed to catch him off guard and inflicted a heavy kick to Wesker's chest, sending him back-peddling, trying to catch his balance. His back slammed heavy against a house as Alex landed another kick. The younger Wesker unleashed heavyset hooks that the older easily avoided, causing Alex to create wide holes where his lethal punches landed. Another heavy hook attempted to hit him and Wesker took this opportunity with gratitude. He kicked Alex right in the knee, collapsing it and causing him to howl in pain. Shifting his balance back, Wesker hurled his booted foot into his chest, sending the younger man stumbling back as another kick landed on his chin. Almost instantaneously, Wesker eased into a sharp and forceful roundhouse, throwing Alex into a tree, back hitting hard against the solid form.

Alex had only seconds to catch his breath and even less time to digest everything that was happening. Wesker was beating him. He underestimated the power that welled inside his older brother and now he had to pay for it. The upper hand was graciously given to Wesker.

_How could this be? _Alex thought to himself. He should have worn himself out by now but instead, he was practically dripping with power.

Alex stood from his crumbled form to watch his brother approach him with a deadly lift in his step. He was hunched over slightly, aiding to the absolutely menacing look that gripped him and there was a smudge of blood on the corner of his mouth that he wiped away with the back of his hand.

"I'm going to enjoy watching you die, Albert." Alex stated simply, readjusting his tie.

This time, Wesker struck first but was withheld by a barrage of punches being dealt by Alex. His hits were hard, coming down on his blocking arms like the hammer of Thor, mighty and almost unstoppable. Wesker could feel his bones begin to ache from the sheer force that his brother managed with his onslaught of blows. Alex strategically moved from swinging down to swinging in, catching Wesker directly in the stomach, knocking the wind right from his lungs. He lashed out a leg, tripping his brother and before his body even hit the ground, he inflicted a kick so powerful, that it sent Wesker flying into the side of same house now full of holes. He recovered quickly, eyes glowered upwards at Alex and he was on his feet once again.

Alex's fist was caught and twisted back, rendering it useless. Wesker put all of his weight into a single strike to Alex's chest, hoping to feel bone break under his blow. He used his other hand to land a jab to his jaw but Alex caught his arm, holding it above his head, used his free arm to clothesline Wesker in the throat. He choked on air momentarily but grabbed Alex's arms and locked them within his own and began head-butting his brother in the nose, attempting to break it. Alex brought his knee into the equation and used it to put distance between them. Distributing his weight, Alex pushed his brother off of him and used a deadly palm-strike to the middle of his chest to send Wesker hurdling backwards. Alex marched forward like a predator to prey, knocking Wesker in the jaw and then the chin, keeping him off balance. Alex held one of Wesker's arms above his head and landed three heavy hostile punches to his ribs, smirking subtly when he felt them crack under the sheer power.

However, yet another victory short lived.

Wesker spun himself away, roundhousing Alex in the chest. With a roar, Wesker dished out as many punches as his body could manage. Strategically placed so that Alex could not regain his footing. He began to feel his knuckles become raw, blood brazing them like stains on paper. But soon, Alex was recovering, like nothing had happened. His body went into full attack mode, wounds healing up as if they were never inflicted. He stopped Wesker's punch, two of his brothers fists in either hand and with all the force he could manage in one strike, he pulled it into a mighty blow that propelled Wesker back nearly twenty feet. He landed jarringly on his back, muscles constricting from pain. He winced as he could feel blood come to his mouth. Wesker rolled over on his side and hacked up a bout of blood. Speckling it upon the grey cobblestone like crimson raindrops.

Chris' eyes flicked towards Wesker who slid quite a ways after the heavy hit he took. He could see the blood falling from his mouth like an unmistakeable sign of death.

"Jesus he's killing him…" He muttered to himself. A bullet ricocheted off of the tree he was using as cover and tried to shake the thought of the blood seeping from Wesker's mouth.

Alex huffed with satisfaction as he saw his brother was not rising to his feet. Oh how the mighty have fallen. He could smell the ichor that surround him, his nose filling up with its irony scent. And just as he was about to relish in his brothers defeat, Wesker rose, slowly but surly did he rise to face his destroyer. That smug look upon Alex's face faded quickly as Wesker wiped the blood away with the back of his hand, baring his reddened teeth like a wolf. His stance was deadly and he hardly looked like he was tiring but Wesker could feel it in his bones, there wasn't much he could do. He had to render his brother incapacitated sooner rather than later.

Wesker lunged for him and though each of his punches were blocked by a solid arm, he could see Alex wearing down. Every blow he took, his energy faded. They were both exhausted but no one could tell on the outside. However, their muscles were inflamed, pulsing with soreness. Deep bruises were already forming and the skin on their knuckles were begging to rub raw. Wesker took a harsh hit to the temple and he his vision faded to black for a split second but it turned over into a dull ache. Recoiling, he measured out the distance of steps and took them in stride, counting in his head.

_Right foot._

_Left foot. _

_Pull the weight. _

_Ignore the pain. _

_Connect. _

_Nose broken. _

_Stumbling backwards. _

_Palm strike. _

His movements were swift, as if he was reading from a textbook. Each of them landed with acute precision, hitting harder than the ones before them. But one false move gave his brother the upper hand again. Alex caught his swinging leg under his arm and delivered a jab to Wesker's jaw, snapping his head back. Lifting him from the ground, Alex spun round once, gaining deadly momentum and hurtled Wesker into the side of a house.

Wesker shook his head clear, the sheer force of Alex's throw dazed him and he could feel his knees wanting to give. Alex landed heavyset hooks with so much power, Wesker could feel the rest of his ribs snap into mere shards. Almost ten hits later, Alex grabbed his brother by the collar of his shirt, spinning him around to face him. Blood peaking through the corner of his mouth, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

_What more could he take? _Alex wondered to himself.

He pushed him to the ground and Wesker hardly moved at all. Alex smirked and spat the ground below him.

"Look at you."Alex bellowed "The mighty Wesker with all your strength! And what good does it do you now?"

Grabbing him by a wad of his shirt, Alex dealt hit after hit until Wesker's face was barely recognizable. Broken nose, broken eye sockets, large and gushing gashes adorned his cheeks and jaws. A river of blood flowed from a gaping wound on his forehead and it intermingled with his dirty blonde hair. Alex dropped him and winced, waving his raw hand in the air, laughing to himself.

"I have waiting a very long time for this." He mused. Wiping the blood from his hands and face with a red handkerchief, stuffing it back into his breast pocket when he's finished.

"Any last words before I kill you and move to kill your precious Claire?"

Wesker was unaware of Alex's true intentions for Claire and Alex just adored bluffing. After he was finished with his pathetic excuse for a brother, he planned on wiping out the rest of his annoying friend. Each one, picking them off like flies. He would save Chris and the children for last so he could force Claire to watch.

"No?" He asked smugly. "Then I fare thee well, Albert." He grabbed Wesker's gun from his holster, aiming the barrel right between his eyes. The cold steel upon his face was the last thing he wanted him to feel. Being killed with your own weapon was something Alex always wanted to participate in. It was the worst of humilities.

"Hey!" A sharp voice rang out and Alex's head snapped up to face his aggressor only to see Serena Mills with a gun pointed directly at his forehead.

"I'd rethink that if I were you, hon." Her smirk grew wider as she pulled back the hammer of the magnum in her hands.

Alex growled and stood stiffly. "What are you doing here?"

"Owing my debt." Serena replied, hazel eyes flicking to Wesker's still form.

Alex roared and lunged for her quicker than she expected but not before she managed to pull the trigger of the massive magnum. They both fell backwards, blood bursting from enter and exit wounds. Alex ripped into her throat with his bare hand and tore out that single precious vein housing all that blood… but he could feel a familiar warmth between his eyes and drip down off the tip of his nose. He brought a finger to his wound, feeling his vision falter. Knees fell heavy to the stone roads and his body hit the ground like a ton of bricks.

He collapsed right next to his brother.

Wesker turned his head, clouded eyes bearing the form of his fallen brother. He coughed up some blood and used the remainder of his strength to lift himself to his feet, stumbling for balance. Wesker wiped his face with his arm, smearing the red blood of war on his skin. He wore that drying ichor like a mask of a warrior. Broken, scarred, but _not _beaten.

Eyes scanned the masses of men and women still fighting and yet the first thing that caught his eye was the still form of Serena lying on the paths. He stumbled over to her seemingly lifeless form and dropped to his knees. He took her into his arms, inspecting the trauma that would surly, if not already, take her life.

"Serena…?" He called in a hushed tone. The entirety of this moment, a whirling fight behind them, seemed insignificant. Great gouts of blood escaped from the gaping wound on her neck, words cut off by incoherent gurgling.

"I didn't mean die for you." She managed to choke out, laughing while she did so.

"You saved my life." Wesker muttered.

"I owe you for saving mine." Her skin became pale and the red of gore showed off stunningly. It was sickening to see her like this but Wesker could not thank her enough. She smiled up at him and nudged something into his hand.

A syringe.

"Show that bastard who's boss, Al." Serena coughed, using up the rest of her breath. "He ain't dead yet."

Wesker nodded and pocketed the small vile that carried death within it.

"Show him…" She repeated. Wesker brushed hair from her eyes and held her face in his hands.

"Show… him…"

He lost her then. And he wasn't about to lose another. Not today. Not ever.

He rose up, like a Phoenix rising from its ashes. Battle ready, battle born. The dead form of Serena Mills like a burnt image in his head for ever and ever… He could see Alex's body begin to stir and he inhaled air that was as clean as before. Muscles constricting like a cobra, fingers twitching like the claws of a wolf. He rooted himself to the earth just as he had once before. They were one in the same. Breathing the same air, sharing the same interstellar connections. One with the wild, one with the Mother.

He was The Wilderness.

**A/N: What an epic chapter! I had so much fun writing this one and the ones to follow will be even more packed! Stay tuned to see which Wesker comes out on top!**


	53. The Wesker Child Has Far To Go

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

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><p><strong>Heyo! Sorry for such a late update it<strong>**'****s just that I didn****'****t get a lot of reviews so I was feeling kind of down. BUT, I forgive and forget cause I know a lot of you have trouble reading and then getting back to me, which is totally fine! SOM will always be here when you get back :)**

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><p><em><strong>TanuSherry: Thank you!<strong>_

_**MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: Read on and see what happens in this packed chapter!**_

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><p><span>Chapter 53: The Wesker Child Has Far To Go<span>

Civil war. Like a snake writhing through and through it was here. Setting ablaze, striking down, and spilling blood. Under the overcast of the clouds that towered in, bodies were strewn onto the ground like mindless litter. Ears were met with shouts, like the yell of a dragon. Eyes were met with homicide, killing for survival but killing nonetheless. Bruised and battered they went, marching on against their kin. Fighting for themselves yet all the same, fighting for _him. _He was not God, he was not a King.

He was a man. A beaten and calloused type whose bloody knuckles showed the real fight. Whose brilliant red eyes showed the ever-turning struggle to stamp out the one who sought to defile him. For to war, they went for him. Enemy turning to empathy. That single word uttered by a leader, by a man who had seen the face of death himself, had asked. No command, no plead… just a simple utter.

"_I can promise you survival__…" _

Here were those men.

The Preacher, The Warrior, The God, and The Fallen.

Wesker sucked in a breath of that pure country air, filtering through his body like the blood in his veins. His bones were tired, his muscles ached, but his heart was throbbing, adrenaline rushing like a storm under his skin. God wasn't going to cut him down today.

Alex rose like the dead from the grave and staggered for a moment before wiping the blood from his face away with the back of his hand. His flesh was covered in dirt and fresh blood unlike his brother who wore his like warpaint upon his skin. Marking each moment and each impact with a smear of dark, cracked ichor.

"I will not fall to you!" He roared with a crack in his voice. Quite a broken sound that Wesker reveled in.

"We shall see." Wesker replied calmly.

Alex came for him like a wave of violence, a crashing force that Wesker was already prepared for. His strikes were blocked, one by one, deterred by his solid arms. Wesker's eyes were sharp, watching every move with acute thought, and one, small slip by the younger Wesker caused an opening. His fist flew forward and hauled right into the middle of Alex's face, sending him flying yards back. He landed hard on his back, knocking the wind right from his lungs. He held there for a moment, hammered by the sheer force his brother had dished out.

Alex's mind reeled.

_How could this be? _

Standing to face his other half, Alex tore the tattered shirt from his back and let it sail to the ground. He stood in all his godless glory, the heat of the battle drowned from his ears as if he was submerged underwater. They faced off, ten feet of bloodied ground to separate them. Each set of eyes burning like the embers of a fire. Red to orange and both had teeth to bare. Like the invader of the pride, Alex sought to condemn his brother right from his spot, rip him from his throne that Alex so desperately waned after for more than thirty years. The old King was due for a beating and an exile. The proceeder was stepping in. Fists hardened by the fight and heart hardened by the abuse. The mother of all battles to be settled under this gray and falling sky. Each were gods amongst men, seeking justice for their pasts and seeking prospect for their futures. One dead and one to rise.

Alex made the first move, quickly closing the space between him and throttled Wesker with a wicked hook to his already damaged ribs. Wesker's hand shot out and trapped Alex's arm against him, spinning him around and twisting the limb in a very deadly hold. He could hear the bone creaking under his fragile muscle, threatening to snap at any moment. Before he had the chance, Alex used a leg to sweep Wesker onto his back and pinned him down, knees digging into his sides. Wesker used every ounce of weight he could muster to shake him, sending Alex peddling backwards. Wesker struck him in the side, the throat, and finally the knee, making the younger brother collapse. Each strike was delivered with acute precision, unlike any man could manage. Years of harsh training and rigorous discipline had made Wesker into what he was to this very day… A killer. A very dangerous killer.

Alex, on his knees had only a brief moment to raise his eyes only to see Wesker's bloodied fist coming directly towards his eyes. He moved his head a mere inch, the punch striking nothing but air. A rookie mistake. Alex took hold of this opportunity and grabbed Wesker's arm, pulling him with pounds of force towards the ground, his face colliding with the cold stone. Alex got to his feet quicker than a blink and loomed over his slowly recovering brother. Wesker raised himself, feeling as though he weighed a thousand pounds. Alex allowed him to stand, taking a single drought of pity on his brother. The differences between them could now be seen as Wesker's eyes focused on the younger. As the days went by, so did Wesker. He got older with every passing hour, strength dwindling until it would be nothing but a tiny spark, nothing worth to light a fire. Years of being broken had finally broken him. The virus had coddled him like a child, taking care of his body for nearly fifteen years. It was apart of much like the very blood pumping through his veins. Every day was like a walk in the park yet, as the days became longer, so did the living. His body could not deny aging, it could only slow it down. It was still ever present, just a thought in the back of his mind. He watched his life flash before his eyes, every single memory like pictures on a television screen, fading in… fading out. He could hear the birds amongst the shouts, the coming storm amongst the gunfire. He felt one with himself again, but that did not last. Alex was circling him now, like a predator to prey, watching every twitch and every blink.

"How does it feel to lose?" Alex asked.

"I have never lost." Wesker deadpanned.

Alex held a finger to his lips, smiling wickedly. "I would deem it wise to not speak too soon, Albert."

Wesker's hands clenched. "And I would deem it wise to quit your taunting."

"You cannot best me, brother. It is simply not apart of the plan." Alex's circling had come into a closer proximity.

"Perhaps not apart of yours." Wesker mused. "But I have an agenda. Living."

"Then I'm afraid your appointment with life is to be cancelled. Enough mucking around, then." Alex chided. "Let us see which Wesker child has further to go."

Alex made a swift move, kicking Wesker in the chest, sending him peddling back into the side of a shed, the paneling cracked from the heavy and inhuman impact. Wesker smirked a little, clapping in such a taunting manner. This hit was hard but his was going to be harder. Alex threw fierce left and right hooks, each avoided by a simple bob and weave. He grabbed Alex by his shoulder, throwing him to the side, causing him to get off balance just enough for Wesker to strike him with a few jabs on his neck and shoulders, trying to render the muscles useless. Each of Alex's attempts to hit were blocked with steady arms and technical discipline. Wesker's elbow came up and collided with Alex's temple, dazing him and causing him to double over. Wesker took the opportunity to put his brother in a hold, head locked under his iron arms. His knee came hurdling towards him, striking him harshly several times in the gut and ribs. Wesker pushed Alex away from him and the daze from the temple seemed to still be intact. They circled each other, dissecting every move and every tiny twitch the other made. Each were purebred fighting dogs, ready to tear out each others jugular. Alex rushed him, a punch with deadly accuracy but it was blocked, yet again by Wesker's perfect combat diligence. Wesker stepped to his side, a mistake that could not be forgiven as Alex jabbed him in the ribs and pronounced a heavy kick to his chest, sending him into the side of the shed again. Alex rushed him but Wesker was already prepared for this move set. He darted forward, under the oncoming fist and used his body weight to knock Alex in the back, making him slam against the shed. His turn, however, wasn't fast enough and Alex was already recovering. He ran for him, ducking and picked Wesker up off the ground. He body slammed him into the dirt, and very primitive way of fighting was now being established. This was no longer by the book, this was street. Dirty and unconventional moves that only the underground sanctum of fighters would use.

Wesker scrambled to get to his feet before Alex was already landing powerful hits upon him. And they hurt like hell. There was hardly any room for recovery but that was the point, wasn't it? Wesker had to think quick and act even quicker. He saw an opening as Alex readied himself for another barrage of punches and ducked around him. They were now toe-to-toe, making sure that their hands were ready and their fists were sharpened like claws. Alex charged like a ram, knocking him back and turning him around for a perfect window of time. As if his deadly move was progressing in slow-motion, He jumped into the air, sailing forward like a cannon ready to fire and Wesker only saw the oncoming threat from the corner of his eye before he couldn't see anything at all. Alex's punch was sheer _force. _Cracking Wesker directly on the jaw, and it sent him cashing to the ground, completely dazed and in mass amounts of pain.

He recuperated slower than he should have, still bewildered by how much strength had gone into a single hit. He clambered to his feet, stumbling a little as he did so. Alex did not hesitate as he slugged Wesker in the jaw, and then he brought both of his hands to slam over his ears, discombobulating him. Wesker swung a fierce hook but was blocked by Alex's arm and opened up his ribs for a heavy blow. He deflected another punch with his arm and brought his elbow to connect with the side of Wesker's face and then hammering down a punch in the same spot, surly dislocating his jaw. He was defenseless as Alex throttled two swift hits to his ribs, feeling them crack under his knuckles. Those jabs sent him stumbling backwards, a dangerously large opening for Alex as he landed a right hook to his face and then the final blow, a heavyset and leaping kick to the diaphragm. Wesker flew backwards and landed nearly unconscious on the dirt-covered ground

Alex stalked towards his brother's pain-writing form and loomed over him like a conqueror. He dug his shoe into his shoulder blade, feeling the tendons and muscles convulse under the pressure. Wesker howled in pain, trying to get out from under him. Alex bent down and grabbed a fistful of Wesker's hair and jerked his brother to a kneeling position, forcing him to look up at him. His face was smeared with blood, covered in dirt as well. He unsheathed the knife from his belt and bent over, pressing the cold steel against the fragile skin just covering that precious artery.

"Did you really believe that you could beat me?" He taunted, pressing the blade harder against the skin. "You were foolish even to try. Now a simple slice will deal what I have been trying to accomplish for years…"

Wesker's breath was harsh, his eyes watching Claire sock a guy right in between the eyes. She was caught in the heat of the moment as she shook her hand, reliving it of the pain. He smiled, a small micro-smile that could only be held to himself. She turned around, seeing him out of the corner of her eye… and saw.

Alex shred the blade across his flesh, slicing into it as a hunter would, rupturing the artery as blood sprayed from the ragged wound. The red of the crimson pool and the red of Claire Redfield's fiery hair were only the last things to grace Wesker's eyes as they fell, heavy lids closing upon a lifetime. Death had extended his hand and Wesker had finally fallen prey to his worst fear.

"You lost." Alex whispered into his ear.

XXXXX

"NO!" Claire's voice ripped through every single sound. Footsteps falling silent, voices finally hushing. A single word halted an army. The faces of many watched as Wesker's body hit the ground like bricks and as the dust settled, so did the many. This was a travesty. A mistake. This wasn't supposed to happen.

Claire's eyes were wide, ridden with tears that streamed down her face without a blink. The gun that held itself so heavily in her hands clattered to the ground and a sob, so choked and pained, escaped her mouth like the utter of weak, helpless child. Her body moved like a zombie, staggering over to his lifeless form that was now soaking in its own blood. Her knees crashed to the hard stone ground and her shaking hands reached out, touching his shivering skin. When her fingers felt the fading heat, she retracted as if it was poison. Hands falling into her lap, she hunched over him like a mourning statue, tears falling onto his skin.

"Albert please…" She whispered. "I know you're in there."

Alex did not move, his hand still clutched the knife as if he thought his brother was going to rise up from the dead. His blazing orange eyes were wild with the kill. It was everything he imagined it to be. There was a rush that tacked itself onto him, the smell of blood in his nose. Everything had fallen into place just the way he needed. Wesker was dead and the remainder of his plan could commence. He watched as that helpless and brooding woman hung over his body like a pathetic scene from a movie. He would allow her this goodbye. A single bout of empathy that he would condone only once.

Claire could no longer feel his hammering heartbeat. His chest did not rise and fall. His eyes did not open. Overcome by his worst fear. His time had finally run out and what a harsh and disgusting way to go. Every emotion racked her heart and her brain. Sadness, anger, fear… each one playing a different chord on her heart. Blood had spread on her still shaking hands and yet, Claire could almost say he looked peaceful. His face was soft, as if he were sleeping. And oh how she wished it was all that simple. Yet, Claire knew that he died fighting. Fighting for what he believed in. Wesker was corrupted into an alien life that she would never fully understand however, she could understand the facts. He was a killer, plain and simple. But after years of being what he hated, he had come and faced his destroyer. A demon sent by the devil. His very essence was that of the fight. The fight to live, the fight to rule, and the fight to lead. He was not a good man, nor was he a simple one but Claire could care less about what he _used _to be, rather she had the chance to love him as he was. A father, a friend, and a lover. Wesker was now untouchable. The wolves in his heart could now rest for an eternity.

**A/N: Sorry this one is kind of short but it was pretty packed if you ask me! It****'****s finals week and I****'****m studying hard for those! More to come, content and progress wise! I promise! **


	54. Carry On, My Wayward Son

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

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><p><strong>Get ready for the final chapters, as we bittersweetly wrap up, Shadow Of Me.<strong>

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><p><em><strong>TanuSherry: *evil laughter*<strong>_

_**fluffybunny4eva: *more evil laughter***_

_**Nicole: Good to have you! **_

_**MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: *EVIL LAUGHTER INTENSIFIES***_

_**Sundragon: Glad you got through! I hope everything turns around for you, life will get better, my friend :) I promise. I**__**'**__**ve been through the same thing. Take your time reviewing, I know you**__**'**__**re still reading :)**_

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Chapter 54: Carry On, My Wayward Son

The whole world seemed to silence for this moment. No birds, no wind… not a mutter from the mouths of many. Cold and heavy eyes fell upon that man who was slain, fair skin absorbing the blood that once belonged to his veins. They watched as that women, mouthed sweet nothings into his unhearing ears. And they watched as his destroyer stood above him, orange hues burning with the kill.

"Poor Claire…" He whispered. "Who will save you now?"

Her grip on Wesker's shirt tightened and she pressed her forehead to his. Sadness and anger boiled under her skin, she was a fighter and she wasn't about to let him win. Chris, who had watched the entire thing transpire from the fight to the finish, looked down to Wesker's body. He had that feeling he would rise up again, like he always seemed to do. He just couldn't die and Chris had finally come to terms with that… but a little part of him wished he would just stay dead. All those years of nightmares because this one single man had planted a hellish seed in that poor town. Yet, he saw his sister, the complete and utter devastation on her face… it hit his heart like a train, his gut twisting in every which way. She was broken.

Alex circled Claire and his brothers lifeless form. "Who will protect you? Who will come to your rescue if not him?"

"He's coming back." Claire seethed from clenched teeth. "He always comes back."

"Your faith in him is strong but you would be wise to let that faith go." He knelt down beside her and stroked her hair gently, as if he was reassuring her.

Claire's eyes wandered down to Wesker's hand which was clenched around a syringe… it was meant for Alex, she was sure. If only she was strong enough to get close to him… she needed a distraction. She turned her head away from Alex and he smirked, standing up to face the many. Michael was down on his knees, bloody and beaten with Jill holding a knife to his throat.

"Do something!" Michael shouted.

Alex, who had little care for the man in the first place, smiled at Jill and it send shivers down her spine like Wesker once used to.

"Do as you like, Miss Valentine." He taunted. "He is no longer of use to me."

Michael's eyes were frantic, he tried not to move, for it would result in a bloody accident. Literally. Jill, who could not tear her sight away from Wesker, was trembling with adrenaline, she was ready to kill this man for the sake of many.

"Your fighter has fallen." Alex bellowed. "Served his day."

Chris closed his eyes, shaking his head. He was right… who was going to protect them from him? He was just the same as Wesker, clearly stronger for he had snuffed the older out. He could no longer feel malice for Albert Wesker, only pity. He died like a dog, useless and weak. Yet, that malice was transferred to Alex Wesker, who had taken something so dear to his sisters heart. Her children were now fatherless, she was now loveless. It was a cruel punishment to be given, to have that _one _person that you cared so much for, taken away.

"What's your master plan, Alex?" Chris shouted. "All of this has led up to _something, _hasn't it?"

Alex, who was smoothing out his bloody and dirt stained clothing, chuckled as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"You know what, Christopher. You're right, there is something." He looked down at the ground where he could see Claire, trembling in the wake of death. "I've been thinking quite hard on what to do after the death of Albert. You see, my original plan was to keep him alive, kill each and every one of you in front of him, for show of course. Clearly that went awry, Albert decided to throw a little fight in the mix." He wiped some blood away from his face with his handkerchief and then proceeded to stuff it back into place. "Now I'd very much like to humiliate him even in death!" He shouted with giddy force. "So I'm going to take Claire." He deadpanned.

Chris pointed his gun to the younger Wesker. "Don't even think about it." He growled. "If you want her, you're gonna have to fight me off and I ain't easy to kill."

"I'd rather not humiliate you, Christopher." Alex said smugly. "However, _this_," he reached down and wrenched Claire away from Wesker, holding her with her back against him, the knife that he used moments earlier to lay waste to his brother, held itself against her neck. Wesker's blood smeared across Claire's skin and she gripped Alex's wrists, trying to claw herself away from him. "Might spur that humiliation."

Chris tightened up. "Don't." He seethed. "Don't you dare."

"You are playing quite a risky game, my friend. Here I stand, knife to your sisters throat, Albert dead on the ground. What courage can you muster up now?"

"Plenty." Chris spat. "I have a whole team at my back and you've got no one to come save your ass before a put a cap in it."

"I find your humor startling for someone who's going to lose." Alex responded dryly.

Chris smirked and aimed his gun. "Redfield's don't lose."

Alex frowned, he was being serious. How dare he fight is fate? He pressed the knife harder against Claire's throat, eliciting a gasp from her. He relished in the feeling of her body tensing against his, feeling the pulse under the cold and bloody steel. He could smell her fear and wondered if his brother could smell it on her. She was a Redfield but that infamous luck was running short. Chris' gun was pointed right in between his eyes but a shot to the head would only incapacitate him, not kill him. He was not weak, in fact, he was significantly stronger than his other half. Clearly. Yet, Alex pondered on the outcome. There were so many to choose from. He could kill Claire and everyone else, but that victory would be short lived for he would go back to his standard life, goals accomplished. However, Wesker had put a damper on things, making his ultimate goal unhinge itself. He planned on saving them for him to watch.

"Well I'm having a hard time on deciding what I should do with all of you." Alex voiced. "I could easily kill you all but where is the fun in that? My intentions have been skewed, thanks to your wayward guardian here." His orange eyes flicked to Wesker's body. He could smell death on him and he could sense no life beating through him. However, the thought did tempt his doubt. He wasn't sure he would stay dead, it was impulse. Heat of the moment. He was so riled with adrenaline that the kill seemed opportune. Alex inwardly shrugged, he would just have to get a little bloody he supposed. Shoving Claire onto her knees, he tossed the knife aside and placed his hands on her shoulders, squeezing them tightly.

"So here's the deal." Alex began. "You can either fight me and die trying…" He watched Chris bristle at the very thought. "Or you can give Claire up and no one has to die."

"She's not going anywhere with you." The small voice said with a trembling echo.

Alex glared, burning eyes finding the source. The boy. He held up a gun, hands bloody and shaking. His eyes were wide, body shot with adrenaline. He was certainly his fathers son.

XXXXX

Patrick squirmed under the man holding him down, a piece of broken glass lie just beyond his fingertips. The heavy man panted viciously, smiling wickedly at Kaya who watched from the corner, shaken to the bone with fear. Patrick writhed again, angering the man that held his wrists with one hand.

"Knock it off and this'll be a lot less painful for you." He spoke in a gruff, exasperated tone. He tried to work his belt with the other hand, taking his eyes off Patrick.

The boy's body began to tremble, he knew that his adrenaline was kicking in, just what he needed to save himself. He lashed out, his knee connecting with the mans groin, making him yelp and release his hands.

"You little bastard!" He shouted, red in the face.

Patrick's hand found the shard of glass and without thinking, he jammed the makeshift weapon into the side of the mans neck, opening a wound that could not be reversed. The glass jutted out, blood pooling out from the sides. He gurgled on his own fluids that were rising in his mouth, holding his jagged cut with one hand, trying so desperately to stop the bleeding. It was futile. Patrick's eyes were wide, his body still trembling as the man fell over, coughing up the last bit of air and blood he had. The boy turned his hands over, red all over. Red everywhere. His hands shook violently, this was what it was like to be alive. He could feel everything, every particle of the universe was before him simply from his body denying submission. He was pumped with the fight, ready to do anything for survival. Just like his mother taught him. He found a gun strapped to the mans belt and he dropped out the clip, just like he was shown.

"Three shots." Patrick muttered to himself.

Slapping it back into the gun, he pulled back the slide with a little hesitation. This was a weapon. This was a weapon that could end lives in a simple pull of the trigger. This was a _weapon. _Designed to maim. Designed to _kill. _And the worst part was… he knew how to use it. He was taught at a very young age. His mother and Chris were set on teaching him how to protect himself because the life that they had lived, they did not want to repeat. They wanted to show him how to protect himself and how to protect the people that he loved. And right now they were out there, fighting for their lives. Patrick scrambled over to Kaya who was still huddled in the corner, tears wetting her face. He put the gun down and grabbed her hands, squeezing them reassuringly.

"Kaya." He said sternly. "Kaya right now, we have to be really, really brave, ok?"

Her terrified blue eyes let loose a few more tears before she nodded. She stood up with her brother, calming herself down with deep breaths.

"It's time to be brave." Patrick repeated. "Just like mom said."

He picked up the gun and turned off the safety, griping it tightly in his hands. Everything was silent but he could hear a voice bellow against the silence. It was that man. His uncle. Patrick took a deep breath and held his sisters hand who was standing nervously behind him. Fear had to be replaced with courage. Leading them out of the house, he could still hear his voice, and how taunting it was. Stepping out onto the porch, he could see the ground that every man and woman stood, staring at Alex with harsh eyes. They were silenced by his voice, the proposition they were being offered.

"So here's the deal." He began. "You can either fight me and die trying… or you can give Claire up and no one has to die."

Patrick's hold on the pistol tightened as did his heart. With one final inhale, he stepped down, other hand clenched protectively around Kaya's.

"She's not going anywhere with you."

Alex eyed him for a moment and then barked with laughter. "You're brave, boy. I like that."

He stepped in front of Claire, as if he was deliberately giving Patrick the shot. "But didn't your father ever teach you that bravery gets you killed?"

He did not falter, only steady the gun in his hands. His eyes were wide but stern, blood covered his now calloused hands as one held to the weapon and the other to his sisters. His body no longer shook, it only radiated confidence that was masking his fear of this man.

Alex chuckled while shaking his head. "Because his bravery certainly got him killed." He nodded aside him to Wesker's limp body.

Patrick gasped silently, air caught in his lungs. There he was, dead. There was no mistaking it, he was lifeless, soaking in his own blood. He forced himself to tear his eyes away from his fathers body and back to Alex.

"You poor, wayward son, you." Alex chided mockingly. "Fatherless just as us. You are certainly a Wesker."

"But I'm not a coward." Patrick voiced.

Alex frowned. He was a little spitfire. He could see Albert in him. The way his eyes grew severe, those harsh, hazel eyes. They had long lost their innocence that he was sure was there at a time. His dirty blonde hair, pushed back from his face to reveal his flinty features and the blood that had dried itself onto his skin, seemed to symbolize his forthcoming. He was a man. Fighting in this world just like the rest of them. He was a protector, sealed to save his family. A survivor. The gun in his hand was his allegory of resurrection, a weapon that could kill.

"You will be." Alex said with an expressionless tone.

"Patrick!" Claire shouted. "Patrick you get out of here!" She choked on a sob before Alex could grab a fistful of her hair, pulling her back. Patrick took a step forward, aiming the gun directly to Alex. The expression on his face turned from stoic to anger in a mere second. He was certainly Albert Wesker's son. Able to change his emotion faster than a switch, being able to shift every emotion into a single action. Passion, anger, fear… every one of them boiled under the Wesker child and Alex could see it with his own two eyes. The way his body language suggestion that of the kill, that of the fight. He could be useful, he thought, able to be manipulated at such a young age. He could be a cold-blooded killer for all he knew but one thing was certain. He had the Wesker blood flowing through his veins.

"Let her go." He growled.

Alex smiled and laughed again, a wicked sound that emitted from those foul lips. "Or what?" He taunted, pulling on more of her hair.

"Or I'll shoot."

"Do you even know who you're dealing with?" Alex asked angrily.

"A lair." He began. "But most of all a cheater. I know you couldn't have beaten my dad without cheating."

"Your father was an old man and a fool."

Patrick's hazel eyes squinted ever so slightly, indicating failed deception on Alex's part. "But at least he wasn't a lair." His heart beat quicker and quicker, it was all leading up to this. That hairpin trigger that sat just beneath his finger, was ready to be pulled. And he pulled. The sound of a shot rang out louder than thunder, and his wrist jerked back painfully. As if the whole world had slowed for this single moment, Patrick watched as the bullet connected with Alex's cheek, leaving a bloody hole in its wake. His body crumbled to the ground like a stack of bricks, a trickle of blood escaping the wound.

He stood there, shaken to the core, chest heaving up and down. His eyes grew wide as recollection hit him harshly. He killed someone. He murdered someone today. Patrick Redfield shot down that man with this gun, trembling in his hand. And in the house, a man lie dead with a shard of glass in his neck. What had he become? A savage or a savior? A savage or a savior…

"Two shots." He mumbled.

Claire who had scrambled over to Wesker's body again, grabbed the syringe and forced it into Alex's neck. She hoped to whatever god was still out there that this would be it. A shot to the head and a shot to the neck. Her fear was disappearing, now replaced with hope.

_Where was he? _She asked herself. _Why isn__'__t he waking up? He has to wake up__…_

The brutal slice on his neck was still open wide, gaping and draining the last of the blood. No signs of life. None. But why? This wasn't supposed to happen. The tables had took a drastic turn for the worse and now her son was a killer just as his father. She had feared this very day. The day that her son was forced into a sadistic submission of extermination. She had watched, with her own two eyes, Patrick Redfield _kill. _This world had now filed down to nothing but survival, war, and murder. All the events leading up to this were inevitable, they were a force that could not be halted.

A breath of life would position everything back the way it was supposed to be. A breath of life would save all of their mortal souls.

**A/N: It has been a _very _long time and I apologize greatly. I have been swamped with life. Work, school… the whole nine yards. It's taken me a lot of time to sit down and write but like I said and will continue to say, this story will continue, I promise! See you next time!**


	55. Rise

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE.**

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><p><strong>Hope all of you can stick around for the last few chapters :)<strong>

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><p><em><strong>Iris-Stephenie<strong>__**: I**__**'**__**m glad you**__**'**__**re enjoying it! Hope you can continue to read and review.**_

_**MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: You**__**'**__**re my favorite :) you**__**'**__**ve been so loyal to me and my other works and that makes me feel so good about my stuff. **_

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><p><span>Chapter 55: Rise<span>

Ada Wong watched. Hidden cameras rooted everywhere in that little town, everywhere they went. She knew that Wesker would stumble upon it somehow. She hadn't been in contact with him in over a year, leaving the gap significantly big in work. She had bounced around from company to company, picking up jobs here and there but nothing would ever compare to the work that Wesker gave her and not to mention, the money. However, ever since she left, she had been watching him. He set her 'free', or as he liked to call it, 'free of her past'. Her and Wesker's was, to say the least, rough. He picked her off the street and paid her to grab what he needed and to keep her mouth shut. However, years of working for him had sparked her curiosity and she dug around in his private life… and got caught. The punishment was cruel and severe yet she found some satisfaction in it. Now she knew _why. _He ran away because he attempted to protect that woman. And look where that got him. He was dead.

Ada laughed to herself in the dark of the room. "Finally." She muttered.

She would not lie about Wesker's part in her life, he played such a large roll in it. He had constant watch over her and made sure that her jobs were done to the utmost perfection because Wesker did not tolerate imperfection, or so it seemed. It was hard enough to sneak around him when he was human and when he changed, he was ever more alert. However, a part of her pitted the man and his final instructions still rang in her ears.

"_You know what to do.__" __He boomed. __"__So do it.__" _

_Ada rolled her eyes and kept her distance in the room. __"__You__'__re planning on getting yourself killed then?__" _

"_What I have planned is of no concern to you. The only thing that you should concern yourself with is carrying out my orders with no repercussion. It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow but when it happens, I need you to be there.__" __His voice had calmed over the course of his speech and Ada could sense the trepidation in his words. He was planning this. _

"_Anything else?__" __She asked. _

_Wesker did not respond, instead he only pulled open a drawer on his desk and pulled out a letter neatly enclosed in an envelope. _

"_If this goes awry, I need you to deliver this to Claire Redfield. It is crucial that this ends up in her hands.__" __He handed her the letter in his firm grip. _

"_Is that all, Mr. Wesker?__" __She asked lowly, referring to him by the name many other did. _

"_That is all, Ms. Wong.__" __He voiced, back turned to her once again. __"__It was a pleasure to have you in my service.__" _

_Ada swallowed the lump in her throat.__"__Thank you.__"_

_He only nodded and held his ground there in his office that she would never lay eyes on again._

Ada scoffed, that day had marked itself down as a memory that would never fade. She had been freed of him in the most sincere way that Wesker could muster. And now, she was to carry out the remaining extent of his final request.

XXXXX

Patrick stood, shuddering with the gun in his hands. He watched as Alex's body hit the ground like a ton of bricks. So that's what it was like? To kill another living creature with a tool that was designed for just that. Every muscle of his body wanted to move, but he was frozen with absolute fear. What a terrible feeling it was. A hand was on his shoulder then, making him jump from his skin. His watery eyes averted to Chris, who was slowly reaching down for the gun in Patrick's hands.

"Deep breaths, kiddo." He chided. "You did good." His large hand clasped around the gun and he lifted it from his hands.

"Is… is he dead?" The boy managed to mutter.

"I don't know…" Chris responded. "I hope."

The town had settled, their minds reeling on what had transpired in the past few hours. Two mighty forces, yet one in the same. Two powers of nature and hate… an avalanche and a tidal wave, clashing into each other like torrents on rocks. They had fought blindly for a side that they weren't even sure they should side on. One was salvation and the other was survival. They had followed a man who claimed to be a seeker of that salvation, somehow on this journey to find God. The other was a solider, sent to protect them from the horrors outside of their walls. They feuded with neighbors and friends, fought for a man they once spat upon, blood falling from his chin as he wore the head of the devil upon him, shackled to the earth he was created to serve. Now, in the midst of it all, who was their leader really? Was it God or was it fate? The rain that fell now was steady, the silence even steadier. Blood washed away from wounds and tears were lost in that rain. They had begun to drag the dead away from the courtyard, bodies began to pile and guilt began to weigh on shoulders. Some were stoic, unable to convey those feelings through words, only expression when they were ready. Others sobbed quietly as they mourned over friends, some over family. Some eyes wandered to Claire who still sat next to Wesker's body, brushing the wet strands from his face. The blood that pooled around him had now run with the rain, down the walks and puddled with the water.

Michael stood over Alex's seemingly dead form and hung his head. He was a fool, an absolute fool to believe in him. He was only using him for a means to an end, and that end had come. He had let down his people, some had even fought against him. He saw Chris stand with the boy, his hazel eyes looking to him, a glare as cold as ice piercing through him. Chris made his way over to Michael who stood in silent submission.

"What you did was wrong." Chris said harshly. "You put all of these people in danger for nothing. Now look," He waved is hand at the towns people dragging dead bodies to a pile, wiping their eyes free of tears. "This is what you've reduced them to."

"I had no intentions of this." Michael said quietly. "None at all."

"But you had intentions to remain blind to what was really going on. Who the real enemy was."

Michael shook his head. "I was naive."

"You were stupid." Chris shot back.

Michael then looked up to see his son walking with a woman whom he had never seen before however, Chris seemed to recognize her as he drew his gun once again.

Andrew held up his hands frantically. "Don't shoot!" He shouted. "She needs to speak with you."

Every set of eyes was on them and Chris lowered his gun but only slightly. "Ada." He growled. "What on earth could compel _you_ to be here?"

She chuckled to herself as she looked around at the mess the Wesker brothers had caused. "Quite a party you got going on here, Chris." She said with that sarcastic loft in her voice. "But that's not the reason I'm here."

"Then what is?" He demanded. His eyes quickly shot left and right to see Jill and Barry flanking him, guns at the ready. Claire was standing in front of Wesker's body as though she was protecting it.

"I have this." She pulled out a silver case, shining as though it had never been touched. "I'm here to carry out Wesker's final instructions."

"Go on." Chris responded, lowering the weapon.

"He knew this day would come." Ada began. "He just didn't know when. He knew that someday his brother would come for him and defeat him, he knew that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to overpower the other half of himself." Her dark brown eyes averted to his body. "So he created a serum that would kick his heart back, bring him back to life. He wasn't sure if it would work or not, it was just something that he simmered up just incase this would happen, which he knew it would."

"Get on with it." Chris growled. "We don't have all day." He nodded over to Alex who still lie dead on the ground, a trickle of blood still streaming down where the entry wound was.

"He asked me to administer it if anything like this were to ever happen, and here we are." She popped open the case to reveal a syringe that held a searing red liquid within.

"How did you know?" Claire said with a shake in her voice. "How could you possibly know that we were here?" She was slightly offended by the fact that in all these months, she didn't bother to help them until now.

"Believe it or not but Wesker still has friends in high places. If you can call them that." She responded. "I've been watching and waiting for this day because it was the last thing he asked me to do. I am, and always will be, loyal to Wesker."

Claire could sense her faithfulness to him and it seemed so odd. He was in control of her for so many years that one would think that loyalty would surly run dry. But not for Ada, she was invested in the final will of this man. Ada proceeded to Claire and placed the syringe in her hands, nodding at her. She then looked to Wesker's cold, dead body and shook her head. All her years of trying to escape him and he was victim to a madman with a sharp blade.

"That's all." She voiced, walking away towards the edge of the town. However, she stopped in her heeled tracks and looked over he shoulder. "If he comes back," She began. "Expect nothing less than a fury like a storm." That was all. Ada began her walk back to the walls, gone in the shadow of them.

Claire's hands trembled as she looked down the the single thing that was to revive Wesker where he lie. Her mind was running rampant, pros and cons, pros and cons… Ada seemed sure that this would work but her warning was heavy in Claire's ears… _expect a nothing less than a fury like a storm. _She knew Wesker could get dangerous but she had never, nor did she ever wish, to see him at his worst. He could rise up from that spot, sweltering with power and defeat Alex once and for all. Or, Claire thought, he could rise and destroy everything in his path, blinded by power and fury. It could go either way but thinking rather than acting was not going to help anyone at this point. Her eyes moved to every person before her, all of them beaten but not done. Her brother, strong and proud, marks of blood and dirt on his face. Jill and the team, smears of mud and sweat on their faces, eyes hard with the fight that still remained. And her children, frightened and shaken, yet bravery set in their bones. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she made the decision, kneeling down to Wesker's body who ran cold. Finding the vein in his neck, she pierced the skin and sunk the sliver width needle into his flesh. She watched as the powerful red liquid drained from the chamber and into his still veins. Once the last of the liquid has disappeared, Claire disposed of the syringe and pushed herself away from him. Her heart pounded in her chest, breath in quick huffs.

Chris put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Whatever happens," he started. "We'll be ready."

Claire nodded and returned her attention to his still form, rain continued to beat down upon the many, all of their eyes on the fallen god. Claire counted seconds in her head… seconds seemed like minutes and minutes seemed like hours.

Nothing.

Her teeth would grind together with every passing minute he did not wake and every passing minute Alex's body rebooted.

"Come on…" She whispered to herself through clenched teeth and clenched fists. "Come on, Albert. I know you're in there."

"Claire…" Chris said softly.

She shook her head, tears on the brink of falling. "No!" She shouted. "He just needs more time."

"Well that time is startin' to run out, sis." He warned. "It's now or never."

And it was now.

Wesker's burning red eyes shot open and his lungs gasped for air, muscles strained, and blood began to flow. He turned over on his stomach and began coughing, lungs rejecting the air that he wanted.

He was alive.

His fingers dug into the dirt and mud under him, fists forming, veins popping with pure energy. He pulled himself onto hands and knees, head hanging in the rain, blood washing away from his now closing wounds. The harsh mark on his neck had closed, new skin covering the old. Standing up, back turned to the crowd, his chest rose and fell slowly, taking in deep bouts of fresh, standing air. Claire watched as his muscles rippled as he stretched out his arms, fingers curling in a claw-like fashion. Restored in all of his mighty glory, Albert Wesker stood, heavy once again on the ground. The same fight had rushed through him, the open, the air. The Wilderness.

He turned around, smoldering rubicund eyes quickly examining his surroundings. However, just as he had risen, so did the other. Alex stumbled to his feet, digging his fingers into the hold in his head and with a painful groan, pulled the bullet from his wound, tossing it to the ground furiously.

"No!" He screamed. "You aren't supposed to come back!" He stumbled again, eyes going in and out of focus.

"How disappointing." Wesker said in that deep, baritone voice.

"Fall to me!" Alex bellowed.

Wesker shook his head with smirk and craned his neck from side to side, cracking it. "Never."

They stood off, neither of their fists raised, neither of them looks even a little prepared. But that was how they were trained. No show of readiness, no show of fear. Calm, cool, and collected was a Wesker Child.

Calm.

Cool.

Collected.

Caught off guard by Wesker's sudden burst, Alex received a massive and bone-crushing kick right to the diaphragm, making him slide back a few inches. However, Alex seemed pleased with this.

"I like the new you." He mocked as they circled each other. "Ferocious."

Wesker did not speak, he only watched his brothers moves carefully, dissecting every single inch of his temperament, making sure he did not make a mistake because now, it was do or die. Alex came in first with swift punches, uniform and concise but Wesker dodged every one delivered. the younger Wesker growled in frustration and brought up his leg for a kick to the temple but his brother was too quick to judge his actions and swept his other leg out from under him, making him fall on his hands and knees.

Alex recovered quickly and watched as his brothers searing red hues scanned his every move. His mannerisms were certainly different, whatever was in him now was unrelenting, something that Wesker seemed to force back like a beast trying to rip free. They did not go heavy on their fight yet, they only sparred like boxers in the ring, fists raised to their face, circling like animals. Wesker would not give away his strategy. Alex threw a few more punches, quicker than a bullet did they fly but again, each was dodged accordingly. Wesker played the defense and blocked Alex's blows easily, tiring the younger brother out.

His leg came up for another kick but Wesker was already ahead of him. He caught his leg and pulled him forward, delivering a swift and crushing punch right to Alex's nose. The force of his hit knocked him to the ground and Wesker was on top of him in mere seconds, pounding his bloodied fist into the side of his jaw. Alex cracked Wesker in the head with his own to get him free and it dazed the older brother for a second too long. Alex sent a fierce roundhouse to Wesker's chest, sending him flying feet away, landing harshly on his back. This was going to be harder than he thought.

Wesker recovered and prepared for his brothers onslaught of punches and kicks, blocking them with ease yet the speed they were working at was beginning to wear down on both of them. Wesker saw an opening in his brothers barrage and ducked under his arm, gaining position behind him, he grabbed Alex under the arms and lifted him over his head, twisting around, Wesker crashed Alex to the ground on his back, knocking the wind right out of him. He picked him up, grabbing him my his arm and throwing him into the side of a house, siding and brick falling off from the sheer force of his throw. Wesker stalked forward, bent over slightly, his walk was that of a killer, eyes flashing with the fire in his heart. He grabbed Alex by the back of his neck and brought his head down, making him slouch right into Wesker's knee that was coming at full speed. The hard hits continued directly into Alex's now bloodying face. Wesker pushed him back against the house again and put every ounce of his weight into a clobbering punch that connected with his brothers face with a crack that could rival thunder. Alex crumbled to the ground, the force of Wesker's hit knocked him out cold. Wesker huffed and relaxed his aching muscles, stepping back and wincing from the pain that would remain for quite some time. The crowd was silent, had been the entire time. He could feel their eyes on him, burning into the back of his head but he wasn't done. Uninhibited and raw power still coursed through his veins, he could feel it flow from his heart to his muscles. The ferocity in that power radiated off of him like heat from a burning coal. He turned to face the crowd, eyes still upon him in awe. He was a God.

He looked toward the sky and let the rain beat down on his face and body, washing away his mistakes, his death, and bringing about his resurrection. Wesker closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, taking in all the air that the world could provide. The water was cold but refreshing, here he was in all of his reborn glory. Behind him, Alex rose silently from his unconsciousness, a brick in his hand. He was panting, mouth hung open with blood dripping from it, teeth reddened with it as he smiled wickedly.

"Dad!" Patrick shouted frantically. "Dad behind you!"

Alex was quicker though as he slammed the brick down on the back of Wesker's head, cracking his skull and sending him to the ground. Alex laughed wickedly and picked Wesker off the ground, standing him back on his feet but he was dazed, blood pooling from the gaping wound on the back of his head.

"That looks like it hurts." Alex said through bated breath. "You better stop that bleeding…"

Wesker winced and fell onto his knees, unable to keep his body up. He clasped a hand on the wound, trying to feel for the healing. It was slow, unable to keep up with the mass amounts of blood he was currently losing. Somehow, he stood, hands red, and face stoic again. Alex sneered and poised himself again.

Wesker did not hesitate as he swung first, rock fist connecting with Alex's jaw, tossing him to the side the older brother did not waste time as he picked him up and threw him back down again. Wesker grabbed the collar to Alex's shirt and lifted him on his feet again.

"You fight like a schoolboy…" Alex mocked through bated breath.

Wesker threw out punches that could crush bone and each of them landed with precision on Alex's face, sending him reeling from side to side. Wesker quickly closed the distance between them and delivered an uppercut to Alex's stomach, knocking the wind out of him again. Wesker stepped back and transferred every ounce of his weight into a hulking right hook and sent Alex twisting to the side and onto the ground. The younger brother didn't even have a window for his own blows. Alex picked himself up but was attacked mere seconds later, blocking his brothers punches with his arms began to wear down on his bones.

This raw power that he was exerting was no match for Alex's weakening state. A few more hits and he would surly be down for the count. The younger Wesker managed to sneak in a few hits but they didn't hold a candle to Wesker's unstoppable onslaught of punches. With the last amounts of his buried strength, Alex forwarded amazing power into a punch that was going nowhere… his clenched fist was caught in Wesker's hand, trembling with force. He twisted his arm back and shoved Alex onto his knees, forcing his arm up in a dangerous position that sent pain shooting through his arm.

"Look at them." Wesker commanded.

Alex rolled his eyes and gazed upon the crowd that had been watching them brawl. They were soaked to the bone, bloody, and beaten. They were the result of an act of violence that could not be revoked. Tricked into a facade that faded all too quickly.

"They're _cattle_." Alex spat. "Created to herd and control." His lungs burned from the energy he had wasted trying to take down his brother. Every breath felt like ice through his body.

"You are in control of no one, Alex." Wesker said blatantly. "Let alone yourself." He pushed his arm up, gaining a roar of pain from his brother.

"If only father could see us now!" Alex yelled. "Oh would he be proud of the men we've become."

Wesker pulled Alex's arm by his wrist and snapped it. Alex howled in pain and a laugh laced itself through it. "You are _pathetic._" His breath was labored and holes where the bone had pierced began to bleed. "Do you really pride yourself in being the hero? Kill poor Alex for love will you?"

Wesker moved around in front of Alex, looking down on him with those smoldering red hues. "You are my brother, Alexander. I will never forget that but you have been playing this game for far too long." Wesker sighed almost as if he was saddened by the events that were taking place. "It's time to grow up."

"Absolutely _Pathetic._" He repeated.

Wesker knelt down so he was eye-level with his brother. Glowering eyes met, red and orange. Wesker placed a hand on the back of Alex's neck and gave him the faintest of smiles. This was goodbye. The last of his kind. The last of his family. Wesker shoved his hand through Alex's chest, tearing the flesh and spreading the bone, gripping onto his fragile heart. Ripping it back through his chest, Alex made an almost inaudible whimper of pain and Wesker held out and hand to him and Alex gripped his brothers hand tightly, his fading orange eyes never left his. It was an unseen and silent farewell as Wesker had extinguished the last of his family. There was a sting in the back of his mind that Wesker was sure would remain forever as this was certainly bittersweet. He was an endangered species and now, he was the only one left. Such a surreal and unattainable feeling it was. Alex was now lifeless on his knees, his heart resting in Wesker's blood soaked palm. He stood and picked Alex up with him, gently throwing him over his shoulder, Wesker began walking towards the edge of the town to give his brother a proper burial.

XXXXX

The rain had finally stopped.

Maybe it was sign that things were clearing up or maybe it was just weather. Claire helped the townspeople bury dead, clean, and reconcile what had happened in the past few hours. Her group was safe, her children safer, but Wesker was absent. She thought heavy on his brothers defeat and wondered if it was finally the end. One problem had cleared itself away yet another lie just ahead of them. Patrick and Kaya were asleep on the couch of their shared home and she watched out of the window, the people mingle back into life. Some were injured and some were dead but awareness had blossomed from this. Claire left the house silently and began walking towards the edge of town. A while later, she had come upon Wesker who stood before a fresh grave in the ground.

"He was family." He said quietly. "Despite his upbringing."

Claire touched his arm and looked up to him. "I know." She said softly.

Wesker turned to her, face weary, yet his eyes burned with an intensity like no other. This was the man she had fallen in love with all those years ago. This man, right here, standing before her in the low gray of the evening after rain. He was covered in dried blood that was slowing washing away from the previous weather, damp from the rain, and almost beaten by his better half, but she could not have loved him more than she did at this very moment.

Wesker seemed to sense her admiration and cupped her face in his calloused hands and met his lips to hers. Claire melted into him just as she did all those years ago. This is where she belonged. Wesker pulled her into him and held her against him tightly, a hold that was long overdue. He pulled back and kissed her again, smiling as he did so. It was too long since she had seen that smile.

"I love you, Claire." He said, his deep baritone voice sending vibrations through her body.

Claire smiled back at him and nodded. "I love you too, Albert."

**A/N: TRUE STRENGTH IS WITHIN US. WE ARE BROKEN SO THAT WE MAY RISE.**


	56. I'm Coming Home

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

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><p><strong>Did you guys here that the resident evil remake (from 2002) is getting ANOTHER remake? (2015). AND Capcom is in the works of an Resident Evil Revelations 2?<strong>

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><p><em><strong>TanuSherry: Thank you!<strong>_

_**MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: I just had to throw Ada in there and another helpful character will show up this chapter! Thanks for the review!**_

_**Red Turk: Omgggggg I**__**'**__**m so glad you**__**'**__**re back!**_

_**Sundragon: My friend, your words inspire me so. I really do appreciate everything you say about me and my works. It keeps that light at the tunnel a lot brighter. **_

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><p><span>Chapter 56: I'm Coming Home<span>

Bodies piled on the outskirts of town, burning away the trials of the days behind. Each able-bodied man, woman, and child, took part into cleaning the town of the dead. Tears plodded onto the cobblestone, silent sobs drifted through the air. Loved ones had died for either side, it didn't really matter anymore. It was over. They had blindly followed a man who claimed to be one with god, but instead he was simply a one-eyed coward. Some were broken and injured yet others paid the ultimate price.

Michael was being watched by Billy and Barry, not that he would try anything now. He had been struck down, unworthy of rule. Chris, on the other hand, was more worthy than god himself. He was a fighter, a survivor… but most of all, Christopher Redfield was leader. Born and raised to conquer where others would not, cruelly punished with the death of his parents, Chris had to grow up quickly, his little sister tagging along closely behind him.

"I was a fool…" Michael muttered.

Billy scoffed. "Damn right you were. You jumped the gun and got people killed. That doesn't sit too well on your conscience, does it?"

"What do we all do now?" Michael looked about the people that bustled here to there, hauling rocks, planks of wood, and bodies. Dragging them to the outskirts. Houses were riddled with bullet holes, some were still smoking from fire. Large and crushing damage, where the Wesker brothers slammed one another against houses, brought back those instantaneous memories. They were like _animals_. Two wolves fighting for the same crown. Michael had never seen anything like it, and he wished to never see anything like it again. Albert and Alex Wesker were Titans, chained to this earth by greater forces than man. Greater forces than God. Their brains, however almost fitfully constructed, were rampant. They ran wild with memories, events, and people lost in time. Their past shrouded by a thick and waning fog, and the only light that was visible was the light of greed, slobbering onto the hearts of good men.

Wesker stood on the porch of his appointed home and watched as the people scurried by. Mumbles arose from lips as they passed, children would stare only to be scolded by their mothers. He looked like a _King. _Watching over his obedient disciples. His bloodied skin like warpaint, eyes are fierce as hell-forged jewels. However, he was a merciful King and had a sense to forgive these people. They were simply trying to survive, and survive they did. Each were to their own now and what would become of Eden was on the shoulders of Chris. He was rightfully their leader, a man that could actually _lead. _Wesker inwardly chuckled, he taught him well.

Claire moved towards Wesker with Patrick and Kaya in tow. She mused her sons dirty blonde hair as he laughed and playfully shoved her hand away. Kaya leaned against her mother, still frail from her recovery.

"Dad…" Patrick came to him, head hung, eyes watching the ground below him. He shuffled his feet as though he was being scolded by his father. "I did for you." He looked to Wesker, eyes filled with tears that were on the brink of falling. "I didn't wanna hurt anybody but… but I saw what he did to you."

"You were brave, Patrick." Wesker said with a stern voice. "And apologizing for that bravery is unnecessary. You saved your mothers life, you saved my life."

Patrick's tears fell silently, he exhaled a breath that he seemed to be holding since the finale. He was stamped with an honor that very few held. He was a hero. Young blood still coursing through him, however, in these months passed, Patrick had grown into a man.

"I was just trying to do the right thing…" He muttered.

Wesker knelt down to his sons level and lifted his chin with a finger, smiling Wesker pulled the boy in for a well overdue embrace. Patrick dug his face into the crook of Wesker's neck and clutched at his shirt, tears staining his shoulder.

"I know you will _always _do the right thing." Wesker held him at arms length and smiled again. "After all, you are my son."

Patrick sniffled and wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand. "I love you, dad…"

Wesker stood and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I love you too, Patrick." He looked at his daughter who beamed at him. "And you, darling, have a fight in you that none can best."

The girl smiled widely. "You're braver than all of us, daddy."

"Sure he is." Chris chimed, walking up to Claire. He eyed Wesker and something subtle passed between them. An understanding. This wasn't about a grudge, this wasn't about justice; this was about common ground. Something that the two men finally shared. They had fought equally, shedding blood, sweat, and tears for the sake of this small little town and their families. It surpassed what the past had lurked with, it surpassed the years of nightmares and waiting. It leveled with each other, Chris and Wesker were even. There was still blind justice for everything Wesker had done but the mens forgiveness had to start somewhere.

"Wesker," He started solidly. "You fought for us. Something I thought I'd never see. I commend you for it, but don't think that this erases our past." He was sincere however still spiteful.

Wesker nodded. "And you led well, Christopher. I'm pleased to see that my years as your captain did you some measure of practicality." He remained stern despite the conversation. "However, you're right. This does not clear our ledger. You and I will always have our past, something that I exclude you forgetting. We shall settle that at another place and time."

"I'm looking forward to it." Chris quipped.

"As am I."

XXXXX

The streets had cleared, the survivors attempted to enjoy the sunshine that beamed through the clouds. Everything seemed peaceful yet the reality of the situation still lurked just behind their eyes. Out there, beyond those walls, was still a seed of evil that had yet to be vanquished. Chris had Michael under close watch but was sure he wouldn't attempt anything rash now that Alex was dead. The town had held a small gathering to pray for the ones that they had lost, a small remnant of the world before hell, a piece of humanity that they could latch onto. Some were religious, others were not, but the simplicity of prayer seemed to reassure those who had almost lost their faith in rescue. Chris sat on a porch, watching the folks bustle by, hiding their wounds behind sterile bandages and cloths. Then, somewhere in the distance, he could have sworn her heard the beating blades of a helicopter. He stood and looked towards the sky, shielding his eyes from the sun. Like a blessing in disguise, a black military chopper waked over the settlement like a bat out of hell. Chris ran into the center of the square and waved his arms frantically, jumping up and down. People looked up in unison, gawking at the chopper as if it was an angel descending from the heavens themselves. It hovered about thirty feet above them, kicking up loose gravel and sand, Chris shielded his eyes. Over the buffeting sound of the blades, Chris shouted at everyone to move back and as they did so, the chopper began the remaining distance of its landing.

Everyone was drawn from their homes as they watched a man step out in full tact gear, machine-gun slung around his shoulder.

It was Leon Scott Kennedy.

"Kennedy!" Chris shouted. "Sweet jesus! How did you find this place?"

Leon jogged to him, shaking his hand. "We've been hearing rumors of a settlement of survivors out here, thought we could to a flyby and confirm them."

"How're things on the surface?" Chris asked grimly.

Leon frowned. "The entire city has been quarantined, you guys got lucky. The president has ordered a military airstrike. Just like Raccoon all over again, eh?"

"Leon!" Claire ran through the square to greet her old friend. She jumped right into him, embrace as tight as a snake. "Oh my god you don't know how happy I am to see you!"

Leon chuckled. "Jesus, Claire, you're here too huh?"

"We have everybody, found this place right after we left the city."

"Kids alright?" He asked quickly.

Claire nodded. "Yeah, they're safe and sound." She paused for a moment, thinking on her next words. "Wesker—"

Leon bristled. "Wesker?" He growled. "He's behind this isn't he?"

Chris intervened this time, waving his hand to dismiss Leon's accusation. "He's not, actually."

"What?" Leon was taken back. "Then who else is gonna take the fall for something very Wesker-ish?"

"My brother." Wesker deadpanned, stepping in behind Chris.

Leon had his pistol up in an instant, his deadly aim directed straight for his head.

"Whoa, whoa hey!" Chris hollered at him. "Put it down, Kennedy, he's telling the truth."

With some hesitation, Leon did as he was asked. "I don't understand… your _brother_ did this? No one told me you had an extra evil twin."

Chris shook his head. "Look, that's beside the point. It's over and he's dead."

Leon frowned. "Chris you know just as well as I do that _someone _has to be put away for this."

"Well it ain't gonna be Wesker." Chris felt those words roll off of his tongue in a very foreign way. He was defending the very man that had made almost twenty years of his life a living hell. In the back of his mind, it was wrong. Wesker had committed numerous crimes that he had not been convicted for. The murders of the S.T.A.R.S. members, Rockfort Island, Spain, and other outbreaks that had his name written all over them. His most recent crime was the murder of Ozwell E. Spencer. However, at this very moment in time, it seemed wrong to turn him in for a crime that he had no play in. Like firing a gun loaded with blanks.

"Look we can discuss this when we get you guys back to civilization. Right now, I need an account on how many people are here." Leon spoke into his headset as Chris nodded.

"Christopher." Wesker approached him. "Thank you."

Chris waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, thank me later, Wesker."

XXXXX

The injured, sick, and healthy were all accounted for. sixty-two people including Chris' group had left Eden that day. Trucks were loaded with the citizens, ones that were in critical condition were flown. It was a long drive, almost ten hours to Michigan. From there, families were contacted and reunited, the press had hounded them since their arrival, and statements were given by Leon and Chris.

It had been a long day. Tomorrow, Chris, Jill, Wesker, Claire, and the kids, would make a three hour flight to Colorado. Leon had set them up with apartments and Chris and Jill would transfer to the states BSAA headquarters.

"I can't stay." Wesker muttered in the dark of the hotel room.

He could feel Claire stiffen against him and he knew she was resisting the urge to slap him. "I knew it." She said quietly, her voice cracking.

"I have unfinished business." Wesker said calmly. "Business that I've been putting off for too long and can no longer neglect."

"Albert you said you would be done…"

"It won't be forever."

"You said that last time." Claire hissed. "And I waited eleven fucking years for you." She turned over in the bed, pushing herself away from him. "I don't think I could wait another eleven years…"

"The plans I left behind have not stopped revolving, Claire. I am still a very important man that needs to take care of his company." He sat up against the headboard and the red glow of his eyes were the only thing that she could see. "I'll be gone before you wake up."

Claire's jaw clenched and she turned away from him. Wesker grabbed her wrist gently, pulling her around again. "And then what?"

"Go to Colorado." He said. "Continue to live your life without fear. I don't want you to have to sleep with a gun under your pillow anymore, dearheart. I don't want you to wake up from nightmares or always have to look behind you in the dark." Wesker pushed a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "I want you to be able to be _normal._"

Claire managed to split a small smile. "I'm in love you, Albert. My life is never going to be normal."

Wesker chuckled. "I have to be able to allow you grace, Claire. And when I'm finished, I will return."

"You promise?"

Wesker held her face in his large hand, gently brushing tears away from her cheeks. He kissed her then and Claire blossomed for him once again and it felt as if this was their first moments in loving one another. Closing his eyes, he relished in every little thing that was Claire Redfield. He begged himself to remember every detail of her; everything that had roped him in and tied him to the earth. He could trace his calloused fingers down her arms and make her shiver. He could rake his nails on her scalp and make her hiss with vibrant sensation. He could look into her eyes and see the ocean, see the waves crashing upon the rocks. Oh how he loved her eyes. They were portals to a world that Wesker wished he was apart of. Something deep down in his heart, he felt guilty for not staying that night. He wished he could be there when his children took their first steps and said their first words. He felt incomplete and would always feel as such.

"I promise."

XXXXX

It was early. The sun was just barely coming over the horizon. Wesker gathered his things and stood in the center of the room. Claire was asleep, her hands clutching the sheets. He moved to the other half of the room which Patrick and Kaya slept. They looked like angels, so content. Wesker swallowed the lump in his throat and made his way to the exit. He could not force himself to look back, it would pain him to do so. His hand gripped the doorknob and if he squeezed any harder, it would have snapped. This was goodbye again. Shame welled in his gut like bile rising to his throat. This was goodbye… _again._

He strode down the halls and left that room behind him. His hands were clenched into fists so tight, his nails broke the skin of his palms. He would return to Prague and dive right back into his research. He owned a large pharmaceutical company called Homage. He created it to do what Umbrella could never achieve: actually creating cures for ailing diseases. He based his entire research on viruses that could kill implementing sicknesses such as malaria and ebola. It was almost ironic. Wesker was brought into this kind of work to create viruses that could be used as bio-weapons and those bio-weapons would be sold to buyers on the black market. But Wesker needed to keep his ledger clean and protecting the human race was just his way of saying you're welcome. As he drove through the early morning towards the airport, his new phone buzzed in his pocket.

It was a text from Claire.

_I know you__'__re doing the right thing out there. Just be safe. I love you._

Wesker smiled softly in the dark of his car and debated on texting her back. He parked the car and made a few phone calls, arranging his arrival in Prague. On the plane, it was silent, the sun coming up quickly, quite a stunning view. Wesker leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. He could feel each scar on his body, scars from his last months in New York. They were like annotations in a book, each one was defined for they had deeper meanings. Each one was a biography of the man they laid upon. Each one was a definition of who this man was. He was not a good man and he never claimed to be. He grew up quick and he grew up being taught that you have to fight the world because the world is going to try to fight you anyways. His fists got hard, his wits got clean. He learned that men could turn dimes into dollars and dollars into millions. He learned that being powerful was better than being righteous. Wesker watched good men fall into helplessness because of all these things. His dearest friend William Birkin had been a victim to the monster that they helped feed. As the past crept into the corners of his eyes, and he shut them tighter, expelling them again.

His hand brushed over the phone in his pocket and his jaw clenched. He couldn't… he shouldn't. But he did.

_You have transformed my life into one that I will cherish for a lifetime. You have giving me an opportunity to feel what it is like to have a family and to have those who look forward to seeing you. Claire, you have not gone astray from me, I thought, and still think of you everyday. It is with a heavy heart that I say goodbye and I apologize. Tell our children that their father loves them so very much and as for you, dearheart, I love you more than anything in this world. Please forgive me for my mistakes._

**A/N: BET YOU THOUGHT HE WAS GONNA STAY AND YOU WOULD GET A HAPPY ENDING. Tricked ya. Don't worry though, there are still a few more chapters to come.**


	57. Power And Control

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

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><p><strong>Wow<strong>**… ****just wow, you guys. It****'****s been almost 3 years in the making and Shadow of Me is coming to a close. Please read the AN at the end of the chapter for some news that I would like to share with you guys.**

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><p><em><strong>MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: The final chapters will either crush your heart or fill your heart with joy.<strong>_

_**Red Turk: Thank you for the input, I**__**'**__**m glad we**__**'**__**ve talked :)**_

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><p>"<em><strong>But if you loved me, why<strong>__**'**__**d you leave me?**__**"**_

_**- Kodaline**_

Chapter 57: Power And Control

Here he was again, everything was as it should be. His life was back on its tracks, plans were in motion again, business as usual. He had left Colorado almost four months ago and headed back to Europe with full intentions of taking leadership of Homage again. His seemingly faithful servant, Conan, had greeted him at the doors of his kingdom.

Wesker was sitting quietly in his office, his sharp red eyes scanning over the screen of his laptop. Four months of rebuilding what he had left behind had caused him several sleepless nights as well as a mound of stress that he tried his damnedest to contain. Not a single soul had questioned why he had left, or for that matter, why he had returned. They had no right to question him and they would never dare to. However the months gone, he was still Albert Wesker.

With Spencer and Alex out of the way, Wesker was on his way to the top. He was so close he could feel it in the palm of his hands. He had several small countries, including Prague, under his thumb. Companies got down on bended knee to bow to him, to offer every service they could muster. CEO's competed for him like a trophy, throwing large amounts of money to best the other away. They stepped all over each other just to get a piece of Albert Wesker. However, their attempts were useless for soon, he would be in control of a new Umbrella, and he would turn it into a larger force than any. Neo-Umbrella. It was a small company that Wesker had been keeping a close eye on, they were indeed promising. It's founder, Roderick Simmons was recently succeeded by his son, Derek. Wesker saw potential in the man, however, Wesker knew better than to place his trust in humans. Roderick had been close to Spencer in his old age and the delusional old man made Roderick promise him to continue his legacy. However, Roderick himself was quite old and only had a few years to begin building what Spencer had asked of him. Derek, on the other hand, was taking his fathers projects to new levels. He, like Wesker, had the money, power, and control. Everything that Wesker needed in a prospect. Neo-Umbrella would soon belong to him, it wouldn't be that hard to knock Derek off his high horse. The Simmons Family was prestigious, dirty money lying under their mattresses. Wesker would need more than money to hook Derek like a fish. He would need motive, he would need action. Neo-Umbrella was a rising superpower that Wesker _craved _like blood to a shark.

He already possessed almost every virus created to harm… T, G, Plagas, Progenitor, NE-a, T-Veronica… and now, he wanted C. He found it amusing that such simple minds could create something so deadly. Wesker was a pilgrim in deadly pathogens, he gave life to the one that terrorized almost half a country. Taking credit for such terror gave him a small sense of pleasure. He would admit that those days were behind him, he had to put up a front. Even though Umbrella was built to create bio organic weapons, they would go down in history as a company who sold their souls to a bunch of terrorists, swimming in millions of dollars. Wesker, however, would go down in history as a _king. _A man who would wipe out suffering, creating a race of humans that could _survive, _not chew each others necks for money or power. Everyone would be equal. That was what they wanted in life, wasn't it? They wanted a sense of purpose, not to wander aimlessly. Wesker would give them just that.

Soon, day turned to night. The offices were closing, his employees heading home. Wesker's eyes scanned over his large office, the dim light of the lamp on his desk was the only thing illuminating the area. Everything was neatly stacked, organized, and filed; his laptop beginning to shut down. Sighing heavily, Wesker could feel his heart twist violently as his eyes ran over the photograph of Claire that settled itself on his desk. Soon, his head filled with her words, her very visage shrouded his vision. God he missed her. He would never admit it out loud but Wesker could hardly stand the distance that he had put between himself and Claire… again. He had the sudden urge to put the picture frame facedown and his fingers twitched to reach for it. His hand gripped the corner tightly but he just couldn't bring himself to turn her away.

Growling in the dark, he rose from his chair and put on his jacket. Home was close but it wasn't _home. _Every night since he had left was quiet, there was no rustle of the sheets, no soft groans of sleep talk, no accompanied breath. No Claire. He wondered why she never tried to contact him, surly she was just as furrowed as himself. Or perhaps she couldn't swallow her pride. Wesker chuckled as he unlocked his car, that wouldn't surprise him. However, Claire was not his top priority, Neo-Umbrella was. Soon, he would call upon Derek and move his pieces into place. Wesker had every pawn under his control and he was ready to take down the king. Spencer had placed his faith in an old man who now placed his faith in his son. Despite that, Derek was no fool and would surly give Wesker a run for his money, that, Wesker was sure of. His next prospect was in China, a small branch of Homage was stationed there, ready to act out any order that Wesker commanded. The Chinese government was riding on a lot of money that Wesker could find many uses for. Whether he had to strike a deal or take it by force, the largest economical superpower would soon fall to his tyranny.

Later that night, Wesker sat on the edge of his bed and ran his hands through his hair, taking deep, controlled breaths. He didn't sleep, didn't need sleep… he would lie in bed with his eyes closed but his senses were still firing. His muscles and mind needed some form of rest but he could never really put his body to sleep deeply. Wesker's thoughts were shooting left and right, up and down, here to there. Nonstop as they always were but this time, he was remembering Claire's words, her phrases, her profanities. It tugged a smirk to him, to collect a handful of memories that he had made with her and made without her. Sighing again, he remembered quite a distant sentence that she had said to him once… words that held more meaning than anything else she had ever told him.

_You__'__ve got a cold heart, Albert__… __but you have a beautiful brain. _

XXXXX

"Well, Claire, it seems that you're four months along! And healthy!"

Claire sighed with relief and placed her hands on her stomach. Rebecca began jotting down a few notes and smiled in her direction.

"You'll have a checkup in a month to find out the sex if you want." The younger girl chimed.

"Yeah… yeah lets do that." Claire smiled a little but rose slowly, dreading the next few hours as her choices were limited.

"Are you going to tell him this time?" Rebecca asked quietly.

"I might as well… I just don't know what he wants from me anymore."

Rebecca frowned. "I think he'll be neutral." She didn't know Wesker as well as the others, but from what she did know, he was a man who always had ulterior motives however, she just couldn't find that motive this time.

"I hope so…" Claire muttered. She was frightened. Wesker didn't need this, he didn't need _anything _Claire had caused him. Two kids and another on the way… what was she thinking? In the back of her mind, she knew he wouldn't stay, she just wished he would. Yet, Wesker was a very important man and beside every terrible thing he had done, the world of corporations and business were spared from that light. She knew him as the immortal corrupter that destroyed almost everything her brother and others fought for, however, the rest of the world knew him as a chairman of a multimillion dollar corporation, the successor of Umbrella. The golden child. He had placed scales over the eyes of everyone he could, sparing those that he could not fool. With all his strength and all his might, Wesker would still be just out of reach of the group he once fought beside. They were at the end of the rope that he wished to hang them with, yet their necks would not slip through.

Wherever he was, Claire knew he was surly causing trouble. As she sat in her car, she gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles shading white. She tried her best not to cry but her emotions were a force to be reckoned with. Sobs racking her body, her phone began to ring in her purse. She tried to stifle her sounds as she reached for the cell and her eyes slanted for she didn't recognize the number so she opted on not picking up. She let it ring. Claire straightened up and began driving home, she would have to tell Chris and Jill soon, better she get that out of the way as soon as she could. The twins would be next but Claire knew they would only be excited for a little brother or sister. She would have to take time off of work too… she hated doing that. Terrasave had been quite generous for the past few years and Claire was grateful she held such an esteemed position, it gave her extra leeway. She did not see combat like her brother, rather she saw the aftermath. She was the director of a containment group, she and her team would go in after the BSAA and clean up their messes, collect evidence, and ensure that a viral outbreak was not a risk. Stopping at a red light, she saw a married couple and their toddler, the father tossed the child into the air as it laughed ecstatically, the mother snapped a few photos with her cellphone. Claire smiled sadly and mentally tried to replace herself with them… Claire snapping photos of her child as Wesker tossed him in the air with a smile so wide it could rival her own…

The house was silent that night, tension hung about but she didn't know why. No one else was here to share her trepidation. Her cell buzzed on the nightstand and she sat up to retrieve it. It was the same number from earlier today. Claire's face twisted in confusion and she hesitated tapping the button. She could hear her heartbeat as the silence became almost deafening, answering the phone, she held it to her ear…

"Hello…?"

"_I__'__m sorry it__'__s so late, dearheart__…" _

Claire was struck with immediate fear. She didn't know why but it was _fear _that welled up in her stomach. It was _fear _that rose bile to her throat… she knew the wolf on the other end of the line but it was that wolf that she claimed to love.

Her voice was shaking. "Albert…"

"_Were you asleep?__" _He asked.

"No not really, it's good to hear your voice…" She clenched her jaw. There was the feeling of sadness and fear and they clashed together. She did not know how to react or what to say to him, just that she wanted to be _aware _of what she was saying.

"_Yours as well, Claire.__" _

"There's something I gotta tell you, Albert." Claire said suddenly. If she was going to tell him at all, it might as well be right now.

"_I already know.__" _Wesker said flatly. _"__You seem to forget my methods of discovering things that are kept a secret from me.__" _

"I wasn't keeping it a secret." Claire lashed. "I was going to tell you."

"_Tell me just like last time? Or were you planning on hiding the child from me?__" _

"I wasn't going to hide _anything _from you, Wesker." Claire caught herself using his last name… something that she had not done in a very long time. _Wesker_ was a tyrant, a man who sought nothing but power and control over everything he did and everyone he met. He had terrible intentions that gave the worst of men nightmares. _Albert _was a man who could see good in himself, he just tried to lock it up. Claire did not fall in love with Wesker, she would never be in love with that version of himself.

The other line was silent for a few moments before she heard him sigh. _"__You would do well to stop lying and start telling me what I deserve to know.__" _

His words cut like steel and Claire felt guilt curl against her. "Somehow I feel as though you don't deserve this, Albert." She tried to be equally as cold to him as he was to her.

"_Don__'__t test me.__" _He growled. _"__You and I may be miles apart but I have not forgotten my duty to you as a father to those children. Despite my current situation, I__'__ll be there.__" _

"How do I know that's true?" She croaked. "How do I know you'll come back?"

"_Because I promised.__" _Wesker's voice was filled with subtle vigor that only Claire would be able to recognize. _"__And I do not break my promises, Claire.__" _

"Don't leave me behind…" Claire said softly. "Please."

"_I would never.__" _

"When will I see you?" Claire muttered into the phone.

Wesker was silent for a moment, almost as if he was choosing his next words carefully. He did not want her to get her hopes up for something he could not fulfill but he also could not avoid her.

"_Soon.__" _Wesker mused lowly. _"__I cannot say for certain when but I__'__ll be there.__" _

"You promise?" Claire asked softly, almost as if she was dreading his answer.

A lot of people in her day had promised her a lot of things. Some have come through while others have not. Claire had grown up in a world where trust was as thin as fog and the only people she could truly rely on, would have her back forever. Chris, first and foremost, was the _one _person that Claire knew for a damned fact, would give up everything for her. That's what family was for. She had been turned on one too many times to place her faith in strangers, Leon was an exception. Albert Wesker was different. He had been introduced to her as a villain, simply put, a man who had ulterior motives. He shadowed her life and others with fear, a true monster under the bed. The blood he spilt flowed like wine, the people he affected died like flies. Everywhere he went, terror followed soon after, if not right along with him. Every place he had been was _cursed._ Like a plague, Wesker slinked through the years undetected, impossible to catch, impossible to face. Claire had feared him once… when his piercing red eyes sent shivers through her body, when his grip tightened on her like steel clamps, when his _power _defeated her spirit. He was not speaking in figures when he said he was like a god, nor was Alex. The two of them were created for just that. She found it odd to have such intense emotions towards him, at times, he almost acted as though he was a machine, a program that identified with certain emotions however, not all. And yet, Claire Redfield was different as well. She had snared Wesker right back, seized him, and slowly brought him down to earth. But unchained, was beauty's beast now.

"_Yes, dearheart.__" _Wesker spoke softly, with almost an utterance of sadness. _"__I promise.__" _

Claire sighed and smiled. "Good."

"_I__'__m afraid I must get going.__" _

"Goodnight, Albert."

"_Goodnight, Claire.__" _

She hesitated, but knew this could be her last time speaking with him for quite some time. "I love you."

The line was silent for a moment, a moment that, to Claire, felt like an eternity.

"_I love you too, dearheart.__" _His voice was hardly a whisper.

XXXXX

"It was a pleasure to speak with you Mr. Zhèng." Wesker mused. He bowed his head slightly in respect for the man on the screen in front of him, and he returned it. The screen went dark and Wesker smirked in his office. Everything was slowly but surly coming to a close and soon, Wesker would be in charge of a large military sector in China. With that, he would preserve land for testing as well as introduce a regulated drug which would protect against deadly strains of airborne viruses that seemed to afflict China heavily. As for Mr. Derek Simmons, he would meet with him tomorrow to discuss possible partnerships.

Wesker tapped his fingers on his desk as he waited for file transfers. There was a knock and without hesitation, Conan walked in, holding a stack of paperwork.

"Hey!" He piped. "I got some news for you."

Wesker frowned, annoyed at the mans sudden excitement. "Do share."

Conan sat in the chair opposite of Wesker and dropped the stacks of manila folders on his desk, pressing his pointer finger down upon them. "Chinese government just flew some data in. Said that they would allow access to China but only for a few months."

Wesker clenched his jaw. "Conan, that isn't _good _news."

The younger man waved him off. "Yeah I know but get this, they said that if progress is made in four months, they would allow you to stay, move the teams in, and start research. They seemed pretty enthusiastic about Homage cuddling right up to em."

Wesker slid the folders towards him and fingered through a few pages of confidential documents.

"I see." He said. Standing up and straightening his shirt, Wesker nodded at Conan. "See to it that theses files are put away immediately. And phone Mr. Simmons." Wesker smirked. "I'd like to speak with him right away."

XXXXX

"Mr. Wesker." Derek Simmons voiced from the table he was seated at.

Derek stood and held his hand out in which Wesker promptly shook. "It's an honor." Derek said. "I have heard such miraculous things about you."

Wesker tilted his head and smirked while taking his seat. "Have you now?"

Derek followed suit. "Oh yes, Mr. Spencer spoke very highly of you."

Wesker's jaw clenched and he bristled at the very thought of that _foolish _old man. The look on Derek's face was that of trepidation. He was a business man, not a tyrant. Wesker would not expect him to understand his motives, or at least the ones not yet revealed to him.

"I do hope to strike a deal with the devil, if you get my meaning." Derek mused before taking a sip of his wine.

Wesker smiled darkly, the shadows on his face deepening. "Oh, you'll get your deal, Mr. Simmons. That, I promise."

Derek smiled back and raised his glass. Wesker could pick out every line on his face, lines of a man who loved to _lie. _He, like Wesker, was a man of motive. They each held their respects for their work and yet, they also held resent for those who followed behind them. Wesker could see it in his eyes that he was a man who loved to bury knives in peoples backs. Clinking his glass of scotch to Derek's wine, Wesker flashed a wolfish grin.

He would just have to gut him before he could get the chance to do so.

**A/N: Sorry this one is a little short :( but i can for sure tell you that there will be two more OFFICIAL chapters and then an epilogue. I hope you can continue to enjoy the fic until it's finished and beyond that.**


	58. The Devil Beside You

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

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><p><strong>I just can<strong>**'****t believe there are only a few chapters left! To let you all know, there will be 60 in total.**

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><p><em><strong>MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: You<strong>__**'**__**ll find out soon ;)**_

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><p><span>Chapter 58: The Devil Beside You<span>

"_What__'__s he gonna be in this world?__" _

"_Alive.__" _

Her brothers words rang in her ears. He was right. Her child, this small and yet, powerful force, was going to be _alive. _The past was the past. People came and went, people lived and died. She had seen the mighty rise and the mighty fall. She had seen so much _more _than the woman sitting next to her on the train. She had been to so many _different _places, home seemed nowhere. She had passed through so _many _different lives, she felt connected to each one. Claire Redfield had lived, just as the child growing inside of her would _live. _The feeling of surviving, the feeling of beating the world, many would never be able to savor. However, Claire Redfield had savored it once, spat it out, and it came right back. Her friends, her family, backed her with guns and will to fight. They dragged each other through hell, holding hands, closing eyes, gritting teeth… nothing their parents taught them would have ever prepared them for the lives they had fallen into. No advice would improve them, no amount of teaching would mold them. Along the way, they learned. They learned how to survive, they learned how to win, how to _fight. _Their knuckles were raw, their bones were steel, their hearts were filled to the brim with courage. Vigilance as quick as a hawk, bravery as mastered as wolf, and strength as fierce as a lion. Hell had dawned many faces, had branded many facades and yet, none would compare to the treachery of one man.

She thought of him then. A bitter taste of sorrow and a bitter taste of disgust. Claire had not gone a day since without thinking of him. Subtle reminders of the man she loved so dearly crept through the cracks of her heart. Storms, torrents often times associated with anger. Wolves, gnashing their teeth and digging their claws into the dirt. Her children, features laced with his own. His own admiration towards her left her feeling empty, somewhat similar to the other side of her bed. Sometimes, Claire wondered how her life, and others, would be if Wesker wasn't the way he was. Normalcy was not, in any way, associated with Wesker. He was unlike anything she had ever seen. As if he were carved from stone, his features were hard and sculpted. His visage was harsh and cruel. His hand was forceful and unrelenting. His words were like terrifying rolls of the deepest thunder. He once compared himself to a god until he had become just that. With all of his strength, he had once been grounded by a mere _touch. _A woman so unlike him, dragging him down to earth. Claire prided herself in the knowledge that she had once held onto Wesker's reins and had given them a tight pull. As untamable as he seemed, and yes, Wesker was indeed a rough beast, he had given into what this woman had offered.

The past was behind her, she thanked god it was. The recent months had proved quite difficult for her. Eden burned into the back of her memory, every time she closed her eyes, she saw Alex. His shimmering orange eyes, his ironic white suit, and the dripping blade he held in his bloodied hand. She could feel shivers run through her body when she though of what he had done. Alex was corrupt, he was brainwashed by an old man into thinking that revenge was a dish best served _severed. _From time to time, Claire would compare the Wesker brothers and would try to convince herself that they were not alike but her attempts had been most inconclusive. Each Wesker brother was calculating, cold, and dangerous. They were powerful individuals who were built for the same purpose. They were created to _destroy. _A seemingly ironic nature had held to them. Claire touched a hand to her stomach, she couldn't bear the thought of her son going through hell. Patrick and Kaya were lucky, they made it. She shielded them like cloak as best she could but the horrors of what people can do to each other was inevitable. Everyone witnesses it in some way, shape or form. She had raised the twins without Wesker and now, she would raise another. A part of her resented him but that feeling never lasted long enough to solidify. Wesker had tried to give Claire the world but she didn't want it. There was an alien emotion connected to all of his wealth hand power, he felt the need to shower her in it. Claire was a woman of simple taste and at first, it bothered Wesker and then it amused him. Claire thought that maybe, Wesker finally understood why. They were opposites, and that was what brought them together. She was righteous and stable, a clear vision of what she wanted and how to kick some ass on the way. Claire was fiery and young and sometimes Wesker would compare her temper to that of a lioness. However, Wesker was complicated. He was always labeled as the bad guy, the man behind it all. She once cowered in his very presence, he radiated power back then, in fact, he still did.

Dragging her from her thoughts was the sound of someone opening the front door.

"Claire?" Chris called from the bottom of the stairs.

Claire made her way to the steps and shouted back. "Be down in a sec!"

The clock on her nightstand read 1:45, the kids were still in school and it was a Tuesday. Tuesdays were the days Chris would come by for a while to talk. The siblings seemed to grow further apart these days what with Chris working for the BSAA. He was constantly on missions across the country and sometimes, hunting down Wesker where he left a wake of death and destruction.

"Hey bud." Claire greeted, hugging her brother tightly.

"I brought some beer." Chris said, waving the six pack in the air.

Claire scoffed and then laughed. "You know I can't drink that, you dummy."

Chris smiled widely. "I never said it was for you."

The younger Redfield rolled her eyes and gave her brother a playful slap on the shoulder. They made their way into the kitchen and Chris leaned against the counter across from Claire as she proceeded to sit atop of it.

Chris cracked open a can. "So," he began before taking a long swig. "What's on your mind this week?"

"Wesker." Claire muttered.

Chris' face grew somber, his jaw clenching in presumable anger. They hadn't talked about Wesker in months, Chris was internally thankful for that. Despite everything that had happened, he and Wesker were still enemies. Nothing would ever change. Chris wouldn't let it change. He couldn't give a damn whether or not Claire loved him, he couldn't give a damn if her children were his, Wesker was still the shadow of corruption that destroyed everything Chris and others had worked hard to defend. They were always one step behind him and even if they _did _catch up, Wesker would burn the bridge behind him, forcing them to fall back and lose more time. Chris didn't _want _to talk about Wesker but he would allow Claire the time.

"Ok." He replied lowly.

"You don't have to say anything, Chris. I won't make you." Claire's eyes darted around the room, she could feel Chris' tension building.

"I have plenty to say." Chris growled. "But you first."

"I miss him. I'm sorry, Chris but I miss him more than anything in the world right now." Claire forced down a sob.

Chris looked away from her. "Claire… how can I get you to see what he really is? I've tried to hard but all you do is let him blind you."

Claire shook her head. "No." She ground out. "You're wrong."

"You're lying to yourself, Claire! When are you gonna realize that he's the bad guy? That he's a liar, a thief, and best of all, oh you really bagged a good one sis, a _murderer._"

"I can look past all of that!" Claire shouted. "It took me so long but I did."

"You let him walk away. You let him walk out on you." Chris shot. "He doesn't deserve you or those kids!" Chris stood straight from his lean. "And you know what?" He started, glaring at his sister. "The only thing he _really _deserves, is life in prison. To be locked away from everyone so he can't hurt anyone anymore…" Chris' last few words were broken and his voice cracked. It _killed _him to see his sister succumb to Wesker's advances. It _killed _him to watch her keep going back to him. It was almost as if he held a vice around her and no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't get away so she surrendered. Chris could not bring himself to look past everything that Wesker had done, he had absolutely _no _reason to trust him.

"Are you sure this is what you want, Claire?" Chris asked with sudden sadness in his voice. "Can you really look into my eyes and say that you _want _this?" He absently pointed at her stomach, tears Claire thought she'd never see, welling up in his eyes. "He abandoned you, all those years ago and now, he's done it again."

Claire bit her lip and held back her anger. "It's not like that and you know it." She seethed.

Chris clenched his jaw. "It's not like that?" He questioned, judgment in his voice. "When someone walks out on you, Claire, you don't take them back. They gave you the fucking finger so you give it right back."

"He didn't turn his back on me!" Claire shouted, jumping from the countertop.

"Ok fine!" Chris yelled. "He didn't turn his back on you, he ran away! He ran away from you and from those kids cause he knew _exactly _what he did to you. He knew _exactly _what you were getting yourself into and when it hit him, it _scared _him. So he ran." Chris was seething with anger, his eyes were intense, his body language was cruel, and his voice was crushing her.

Claire sobbed then, she couldn't hold herself up anymore. She fell to her knees and dug her fingers into her auburn hair, squeezing as hard as she could. She needed to feel _something _other than this.

Chris then became calm, his eyes softened and he took a step towards his sister. Guilt immediately washed over him as he knelt down beside her.

"Claire I…"

"Don't." She muttered. "You already said what you have to say." She looked up at him, blue eyes ridden with tears. "Chris I don't expect you to understand what he did for me. He saved my life, I was gonna bleed out all over the floor if it weren't for him. And in the end, he didn't even want what he came for in the first place. And how can you say he doesn't care if all he ever did was for _me_? He doesn't get a gold star for best dad, I get that, but he loves those kids and he loves me… what part of that don't you understand?"

Chris would not relent. "If he _really _loved you, Claire. He wouldn't leave you."

"You're being ignorant." Claire shot.

Chris stood up. "I'm done arguing with you, Claire. Come to me when you've figured it out." He walked towards the front door and stopped, turning his head to look back at her. "I love you, sis."

The door shut promptly behind him.

The night progressed, Claire ordered takeout and her and the kids sat in the living room, catching up on a few TV shows.

"Mom?" Kaya asked, turning her head.

Claire noticed her scar, noticed it every time her daughter looked her way. It was thick and ropey, just under her hairline on her forehead, stretching back behind her ear. It was a constant reminder of what she had been through, a constant reminder of her survival. Her kids were the most important thing to her, with another on the way, she felt closer to them than she ever had before. Her daughter was a spitfire, just like Claire. Auburn hair and blue eyes, she resembled her mother more than her father. Patrick, his exterior was hard now, he had put a gun in his hands and pulled the trigger. He had severed another mans throat to protect his sister. His features were sharp, just like his father and his very demeanor radiated all that was Wesker. A part of Claire was suddenly reminded of a young Sherry Birkin, how the girl had been left all alone, afraid and confused. She fought too and it was the first time Claire had shown any parental instincts, since then, she knew she wanted children one day. To raise a child that was her own flesh and blood. However, Claire never anticipated Wesker fathering her children, that put an unusual twist on things.

"What's up?" Claire responded.

"When is dad coming home again?"

Claire felt an ice cold pain shoot through her. It was happening twice in one day. The twins had not brought up their father once since his departure. They knew why he left, they understood the kind of man he was. But somewhere in the back of her mind, he children were still oblivious to what their father really was.

"Not for a while, hon." Claire said quietly. "He's very busy."

Patrick remained silent as Kaya just nodded her head.

"Uncle Chris said he was being a coward." Patrick said flatly.

Claire bristled, she hated when Chris talked behind her back. "Your father is not a coward." She stated. "He's the bravest man I know and you two should know that in your _bones._"

The family left it at that.

XXXXX

Wesker sat in his office, Derek Simmons directly across from his, hands folded curtly atop the desk.

"China." Derek said simply.

Wesker nodded. "China is my current and hopefully successful prospect."

"Well, Mr. Wesker I think you're in a little over your head but I can see why China peaks such an interest. A large population, a driving economical force, and not to mention the money they stand on."

Wesker clenched his jaw, blazing eyes flashed behind his dark sunglasses. His composure became deadly and Derek could see his very being shift into a cruel and dark emotion. He had set a tick off in Wesker's head by telling him that he was in over his head.

"I can assure you, Mr. Simmons that I am perfectly grounded and my plans are already in motion." Wesker leaned in slightly, the serpentine-like movements sent immediate shivers down Derek's spine. "Now all I need from you is your word." Wesker's voice was like a black cloak, dark and echoless.

Derek hesitated for a moment and ran his hand across his jaw. "I'm not so sure I like your plan. The C-Virus is more than just a project but it's my whole life's work. It feels wrong to just give it away."

Wesker retracted into his chair and folded his hands. "The T-Virus was my life's work, I know how anxious you are. However, I can most likely guarantee that your profit will built ten-fold as mine did. We are not men of selfishness, Mr. Simmons. We are businessmen. And businessmen make a profit of selling their product to the highest bidder."

"The virus is complicated…" Derek said.

"That is what they said about my virus." Wesker responded. "And look where it's gotten me. Simply imagine yourself in my position. The wealth, the prospects, the _power._"

Derek became physically cautious of Wesker then. "My Family is the most important thing to me. I couldn't leave them for this."

"You wont have to." Wesker said cooly. "Your family is crumbling and without this, it will fall. You said yourself you wanted to strike a deal with the devil. So here is my deal."

"I'm here to create oder, Mr. Wesker. Not deaths. The Family does not involve themselves in such activities."

Wesker smirked darkly. "You're a liar."

Derek immediately became frozen. His eyes went wide and his palms were getting clammy. How could he be so naive? Hiding secrets from Wesker was almost impossible, he seemed to know everything there was to know about anything.

"The Family carried out the orders to destroy Raccoon City. The Family _spoke _for the President that day. They felt it necessary to destroy that town and everything in it."

Derek swallowed hard and nervously adjusted his tie. "Now I can explain."

Wesker grinned wickedly. "Oh there's no need." He leaned forward, hand clasped on his desk. "I know what you're true intentions with The Family are. Your father Roderick proved to be quite useful on his deathbed."

"My father told you nothing." Derek seethed.

"I beg to differ." Wesker mused. "Now, you have two choices. I can either drag your name through the dirt or I can rebuild your name." Wesker leaned back in his chair, his posture still composed. "Your call."

"What do I have to do?" Derek asked with a quake in his voice.

"If you join me, you will never have to worry about whether you're doing right thing or the wrong thing… because we will do the _only _thing." Wesker's tone was stern and allowed no grace.

"I accept." Derek nodded. "On one condition."

Wesker clenched his jaw. "Elaborate."

"You leave The Family out of this." Derek said. "It will just be you and me."

Wesker pondered for a moment, tapping his clasped hands against the desk. The Family was very secretive, a small and dwindling faction of businessmen and cowards. Derek was the only fool from the lot of them that Wesker saw potential in. Whether that potential was useful or not, Wesker would decide soon enough. In full motion, Wesker's plans would be unstoppable. The BSAA would fall behind quickly, casualties would rise, and his clean slate would arise. He then wondered if he even needed Derek Simmons, but he digressed, he was a man with a lot of money and power.

"Alright." Wesker stated. "The Family will be left out."

Derek released a breath he seemed to be holding forever. "Then it's a deal." Derek's hand shot out in motion to shake.

Wesker's own gloved hand wrapped around the other mans tightly, almost crushingly and he smiled wolfishly. "It is indeed."

XXXXX

Ada Wong made her way down the halls of the facility, her tight and fitting navy dress contrasted greatly with the white walls. Her white scarf billowed softly behind her, heels clicking on the tiled floor. She stopped promptly in front of Wesker's office and knocked sharply.

"Come in." He commanded.

Ada opened the door and slinked towards the chair opposite his desk. "So you got Simmons on board huh?" She asked while casually inspecting her nails.

Wesker was standing up, his back to her as he faced the large window behind his desk. It overlooked the city below, the nightlife bustling.

"He's blind." Wesker said flatly.

Ada laughed softly. "He's a damn fool to trust you. But then again, everyone seems to trust you nowadays." Her voice was lofty and smooth, the tone was tolerated by Wesker, she had acted this way around him for years. She didn't care about formalities, they were passed that. She and Wesker were seemingly on a different level with one another. They started out as comrades in the army, after that they went their separate ways. However, after Raccoon, Wesker managed to drag her back to hell with him. Ada would not deny everything Wesker had done for her and in return, she ran his more… deadly errands.

"Everything will fall into place sooner than he anticipates. You know what you have to do." He turned around and faced Ada who was gazing at the photograph of Claire on his desk.

"Are you worried about her?" She asked in the dimness of the office.

Wesker stiffened for a moment, no one talked to him about Claire like that. He wasn't entirely sure if she even cared or if she was just curious.

"No." Wesker said quietly but sternly. "She'll survive. I know she will."

"You're unleashing a force you don't even know if you can handle and you think she'll survive?" Ada was feeling bold today.

Wesker bristled. "I'm fully capable of controlling the upcoming issues. If I weren't I would not be so eager to do so."

Ada scoffed. "Don't say I didn't warn you when you're in over your head, Wesker."

She watched him clench his hands into fists and begin to take deep, controlled breaths. Ada wasn't afraid of him anymore, he had lost his temper with her one too many times that now, he seemed more like a fitful child than a raging tyrant. It was foolish to tread on him but Ada had been doing it for years. She knew she was too valuable to Wesker so he wouldn't _dare _get rid of her so pushing his buttons once in a while was something Ada secretly relished in.

"Go." Wesker commanded, his voice thundering. "You know your targets."

Ada stood and sarcastically saluted him. "Tall Oaks it is."

"Once you're finished there, see to it that the virus gets to Mr. Zhèng's fence. Do _not _walk away without the money."

Ada waved him off as she stood. "Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. Get the money, pass off the virus, and then kill the President. A different kind of grocery list this time, very bold, Wesker."

"Report back to me as soon as you arrive in Washington. I'll be waiting."

Ada didn't say another word as she left his office. This mission was going to prove quite interesting. Tall Oaks was large suburban town in Delaware, the population was ideal for a viral outbreak for it was dense and flanked by other large cities. China was next on her list, Mr. Zhèng's fence would deliver the virus to the Chinese government, unbeknownst to them, was it was a literal ticking time bomb that would release the virus in a major city and Ada would walk away will a large sum of money. Finally, the grand finale, the assassination of the President. Ada didn't care much for politics anyways. All of theses tasks would set a drastic chain of events which would soon create uncontainable disasters, the virus would spread and the weak would die off. Wesker's vision of a greater world was somewhat skewed in Ada's eyes. If the 'worthy' survived, Wesker would undoubtedly have competition but she would leave that problem to him.

As for Derek, he would be useful until Wesker deemed him otherwise. She smiled to herself in the dark of the now empty halls. She couldn't wait until Wesker drove a knife right through that mans back. It was dark outside and the night cloaked Ada welcomingly, she had made allies with it long ago. When she joined Wesker, she signed a contract in blood and his hold would never relent. Every task, every mission, every tedious detail had been leading up to this very moment. Everything that had gotten in his way, he had struck down with brute force. His father would roll over in his grave if he could see the man he had become today. Spencer would praise him, bow to him even. Alex would resent him. The people in his life had come and gone, he kept some and killed most. There were a handful of individuals that were allowed to live amongst him, Ada thanked her lucky stars she was one of them. And as she drove through the night, she could think only of Claire Redfield, the woman who grounded Wesker and made him feel human again. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Ada's gut churned as she thought of her not surviving this. All hell would break loose in less than a few months and she would be thrown into the fight again. She pitied her for a moment, Claire would undoubtedly know that Wesker would be behind this and yet, her affection would not falter. How someone could love a man like Wesker was beyond her, the sheer fact that there was no one like Wesker lead her to question why Wesker _was _in the first place. Ada digressed, she had to stick to her tasks at hand, if she failed Wesker, it would be her life.

The airport soon came into view and Ada composed herself. The silver briefcase sat next to her and its contents stayed sharp in her memory. In that small metal case held the apocalypse and she could not defy Wesker. Ada could care less what happened to the world as long as Wesker watched her back, she hated to admit it but she would fall hard and fast without him. He arranged her private flight to Delaware and there she would unleash hell. It was time for a revolution, a fresh start, as Wesker called it.

It would not be the end nor would it be the beginning.

**A/N: The next chapter will begin to wrap things up as SOM takes on a whopping 60 chapters! Stay tuned, my friends, I love you all. **


	59. Take Care & Control

**Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.**

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><p><strong>And here we come to the near end.<strong>

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><p><em><strong>MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS: I truly appreciate everything you<strong>__**'**__**ve done to help me through this fic.**_

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><p>"<em>I wish that I could give you more<em>_… __gonna have to break the law.__"_

Chapter 59: Take Care & Control

Claire grit her teeth, sweat beading on her forehead. She could feel a vein pop in her forehead as a ragged and strained groan escaped her. She had done this two times already but damn was it a pain.

Literally.

Rebecca was trying to sooth her, helping her to usher the labor to the end. Claire closed her eyes, head falling back onto the pillow. She pushed again and the pain worsened, eyes shooting open. Claire yelled out and turned her head towards the door, half hoping that Wesker would burst through.

"One more push, Ms. Redfield!" The doctor assured.

Claire gripped the rails of her bed as her muscles strained as hard as they would allow and as if the pain had never existed, it was instantly replaced with exhaustion. Small cries erupted from the end of the bed as the doctor bent to retrieve her newborn. Claire tried to shake her sudden tiredness but it was quite overbearing.

"Congratulations, Claire…" Rebecca said quietly as she carefully lowered the perfectly swaddled baby into her waiting arms.

Claire let out an exhausted sigh and a laugh as she gazed down at her newborn son. His eyes were screwed shut tightly and his puffy cheeks began to lose their reddish tones as he began breathing slowly. He was a quiet one, unlike the twins who would not stop their crying after they were born. A few seconds later, Chris came barging in and was at Claire's bedside, smiling like a big idiot.

"Good job, Claire." He said softly.

Claire smiled, tears on the verge of falling from her eyes. She wished Wesker were here to see her like he promised… but perhaps she was hoping for too much at this point.

"So what'll we call him?" Chris asked, stroking his large finger on the infants cheek.

"Jake…" Claire said fondly. "His name is Jake."

XXXXX

Claire was awake in the dead of night, unable to sleep despite her exhaustion. She cradled Jake in her arms as he slept soundly, fists balled up against his rosy cheeks. She smiled down at him and sighed. Everyone had passed through their room today, faces gleaming with excitement, gifts piling up, including a few balloons; shiny, bold words stating _"__IT__'__S A BOY!__"_

She laid her head back on the pillow and shut her eyes, trying to push her memories of Wesker away. She had no desire to think of him right now. She was fully expecting him to come today but now it was 2 am and there was no sign of him. Visiting hours were over and the hospital was quiet. Claire wiped a few tears away from her cheeks with the back of her hand and huffed out of some kind of anger. She did not want to label him a liar because Claire had never once heard him lie but… but he was out of time, it seemed. She wanted to embrace him and bury her face into his chest, feel the deep rumble of his voice there. Watch as his bright eyes scanned over his son in pride, admiration even. Claire couldn't force back her sweltering emotions and she cried. It had been a long while since she had cried over Albert Wesker and it felt worse than ever, heavy and unrelenting, as if he was right there watching her do it. Claire tried to hush her sobs, not wanting to wake up the baby. Her eyes were shut and her tears forced through them.

"Why are you crying?" A voice broke through her sounds and like the sharpest of blades, it cut through the darkness of the room.

Claire's head whipped to the door and there, Albert Wesker stood in all his glory. She sat up and adjusted her son in her arms, swinging her legs to the side of the bed, she stood, bare feet tapping on the tiled floor as she approached him. His sunglasses were absent however he was dressed head to toe in black, as usual. Black slacks and black button down and to top it all off, a long leather coat draped itself upon him, making him look like more of a villain than he already was.

"You didn't answer my question." He said firmly.

Claire shook her head and bit back the urge to slap him. "I thought you wouldn't come."

"I told you I never break my promises." His unshaded eyes wandered to the boy wrapped up in a white blanket, snoozing soundly in his mothers arms. "What did you name him?" Wesker inquired politely.

"Jake." Claire said, her eyes meeting Wesker's as he stooped down to get a closer look in the dark.

Wesker nodded silently. "I hope you weren't expecting a tear-filled reunion." He said sternly.

Claire shook her head, turning to place Jake in cradle right next to her bed. "No I wasn't. I just wanted you to see him."

"Considering that I hadn't gotten the chance last time," Wesker marginally observed the room. "I appreciate the opportunity."

"But I was hoping for a little more than just the few more minutes you're probably giving me." Claire gently grabbed Wesker's hand and moved to place it on her cheek.

Wesker moved towards her, closing the distance between them he leaned down and kissed her, a tender glide of his fingers down her face made Claire shiver. When they parted, she leaned into his touch, her hands against his chest. Wesker wrapped his arms around her and she could feel his muscles relax slowly, the coils of his viper-like body coming undone.

"You know better than that." Wesker said, his baritone voice thundering gently.

"I miss you." Claire said softly, breathing in the pungent smell of his leather coat.

"And I you, dearheart." The deep and atoned rumble of his voice reverberated through her as she closed her eyes to the sound of his hammering heart.

They stayed like that for a few moments longer, relishing in each others long awaited attention. Wesker held her at arms length, admiring her before his features turned stoic.

"I'm afraid I must get going." He said softly in the dark.

Claire detached herself from him and he smoothed out the creases in his jacket. She studied his face for a moment and noticed that he hadn't changed at all. There were no lines on his face to signify aging, no gray hairs invading the usual thick golden blonde. Despite his age, forty-four to be exact, Claire had not seen a single sign to give away that fact. He once said that the virus would not stop aging, rather it would significantly slow it down.

Wesker's brow rose in curiosity. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Claire smiled and shook her head. "It's just… you don't look a day over forty and _I__'__ll _be forty soon…" Her tone digressed into sadness as she thought about how quickly her life had flashed around her. She used to be so wild and spirited, taking long trips on her motorcycle, drinking until she couldn't see straight, fighting off nightmares… She had run-ins with the worst of the worst, lashing back with so much velocity. Mistakes were made, getting caught by the man himself which led to something neither of them anticipated. She had shown sympathy and love for a man that didn't always deserve it. She had raised children of her own, watch them grow and in turn, watched herself grow. She was still wild and spirited at times but since Wesker, she was never really the same. He imprinted a callous love upon her that she tried to expel, but against her better judgement, she had fallen and she had fallen _hard. _

Dragging her from her thoughts were Wesker's hands gently holding her face, lifting it to face him. His thin lips were upon hers then, and she watched as his harsh and burning red eyes closed tightly.

"Age is just a point of view, dearheart." He whispered into her ear. He stood again, brushing stray strands of hair from her eyes. "And if it makes you feel any better, I'm almost fifty." His smile was genuine, a little rough around the edges but all for her. She had witness the rarity of this side of Wesker. He was, in every sense, a very complex man with even more complex emotions. He seemed only convey so little at a time, those typically being anger and narcissism. However, Claire had her hand up his sleeve far more than anyone else ever did. Wesker was capable of showing more than just his few boxed emotions and in turn, he was a ravenous creature who transmitted those emotions powerfully.

Claire laughed sadly. "I guess it does."

Wesker kissed her again. "And I love you all the same."

Claire nodded into his embrace.

"Please do not forget that." He whispered.

Claire shook her head and tried to bite back oncoming tears. "I won't…" She croaked. "I can't."

Wesker smoldered her with a gaze that could rival burning coals, his jaw clenched and his hands moved to grip her shoulders. "Claire, you have to promise me something right now." He said sternly. There was palpable discomfort in the way his words dripped from his mouth.

Claire's face twisted in confusion but she trusted Wesker's words. "Okay…"

"In the next coming years, your world will become harsh and unforgiving just as it has in years past…" His eyes were burning again, liquid gold and burning magma. "And you have to protect our children, just as you did in New York."

Claire shook her head, tears accumulating on the corners of her eyes. "What are you talking about, Albert?"

"I said I had unfinished business." Wesker replied dryly.

Then Claire instantly knew what he meant. He was slating this world just as he planned to do. Claiming it for his own and building his twisted little kingdom. Some kind of pain stormed in her heart knowing that no matter what she did, she could not stop him. Despite his feelings for her and his family, Wesker's corruption ran deep like hells rivers. He was too driven to be tied down and his ambition was the single most driving factor in his life. He wanted to see his vision come true and he wanted to see it happen before someone could shoot him out of the sky. Years of practice and planning had all lead up to this. He was mixed with a terrible cocktail of doing the right thing for Claire and doing the right thing for himself. His plans had been pushed back and now he was rising like a phoenix from his very own ashes.

"No one will be able to stop it…" Wesker said in the dark, his voice sending chills down her spine. "But it must be done. Everything is already in motion and it will escalate quicker than you anticipate." His hold on her shoulders relented and he took a step back. "I trust that you will protect our children until I can join you."

"How much more power do you need to realize that it's not worth it?" Claire hissed through her tears. "Someone is gonna come through and knock you off your high horse, Albert. And then what will you do?"

Wesker clenched his jaw. "When will _you _realize that the balance in power has shifted so drastically that there is no longer _anyone _out there that can defy me. You said it yourself, dearheart… I have a cold heart but a beautiful brain." His words echoed in the room, bearing those memories against the walls and ceiling. She could not convince him otherwise.

"I have to go." Wesker said flatly.

"Go on then," Claire croaked. "Go lead you sheep to the slaughter. But when it's all said and done, Albert…" Claire's eyes were sweltered with tears but they aimed passionate daggers right through him. "I'll still be here to accept your apology."

There were no more words exchanged between them, only the sound of the hospital door closing behind him. A part of her wanted to rush into the hallway and beg him to stay but she digressed. Wesker was on a warpath and no amount of begging and pleading would get him to stay. She slowed her breathing and closed her eyes, images of fire behind them.

_In the next coming years__… _

His words reverberated through her head over and over and over again. She didn't know what to expect other than destruction wherever he waved his gloved hand. She was certain that whoever would rise to stop him, would be beaten and stepped on. Chris suddenly came to her mind and Claire forced herself to stop those thoughts. She was certain that her brother would know how to deal with Wesker… he'd done it before and it seemed as if he was always ready to do it again. And oh what an epic battle it would be. Two forces that had driven through the harshest of tremors, lives bent and altered, thrown into the pits of hell only to come out forged and sharp. The two men had _evolved _from porcelain, to ivory, to steel. Despite the qualms between them, Claire had recognized that they were apart of each other in a deep and cruel way. So as long as either of them lived, they could sleep soundly at night. By now, they had formed a hatred towards each other that had years to stew within itself. Chris fought Wesker and Wesker fought Chris. They loathed each other just as much as they respected each other.

Now it was back to business and Claire feared what Wesker would do to this world just as much as she wondered. For all she knew, this "new world" could be a better place to live in. No war, no famine, no disease… but her mind washed with backlash. Who was she kidding? This was Albert Wesker, not some righteous leader who wanted peace and prosperity. He wanted _destruction_ that he could wield in the palm of his hand. He wanted the weak to suffer and the strong to overcome them. Wesker wanted control of his peers and he wanted control of those below him. He wanted to be respected like a king and _feared _like a god. Every obstacle that was in his way was either dead or about to be. Spencer was taken care of as quickly as possible, making for an easy pathway. Alex, on the other hand, was an unexpected setback that really gave Wesker a run for his money. However, all of his pawns had been placed and the army was marching in.

XXXXX

_Four Months Later__… _

Claire spooned the mushy baby food into Jake's mouth as he happily gobbled it up, smacking his lips together. The boy laughed and flailed his arms as the spoon approached him again, making Claire smile widely.

"Ahhh," Claire sounded as she made circles with the utensil in front of Jake. He mimicked the sound as he opened, his new bottom teeth jutting from his gummy mouth. As Claire continued to feed him, the front door opened and she heard the twins scamper inside, a car honking in the distance.

"How was practice?" Claire asked from the kitchen.

"Good!" They both responded in unison.

Popping into the kitchen, Patrick was immediately at the refrigerator, digging around for a snack.

"Guys you're getting dirt on the floor, go kick your cleats off by the door please!" Claire scolded them.

They did as they were asked and returned to the kitchen, arguing about who was going to eat the last thing of yogurt. Claire smiled and shook her head as she watched them playfully push and shove each other for it. Jake squealed at the sudden excitement in the room and clapped his chubby hands.

"That's right, Jake." Patrick said as he held the yogurt cup above him, just out of Kaya's reach. "I get the last one."

Kaya huffed. "Mom come on, that's not fair."

Claire laughed and shook her head. "He got to it first. Unless you two can be civilized enough to share it."

The girl weighed her options for a moment and then smirked. "Fine, Pat you can have it. But _I _get to pick out what we watch on TV tonight."

Patrick knitted his brows together and hesitated opening the cup. "As long as it's not American Idol."

Kaya smiled almost wickedly, picking up her stuff to take to her room. "We'll see."

Claire laughed at her daughters clever negotiation. "So how was school, bud?"

Patrick shrugged as he dug around the silverware drawer for a spoon. "We have to write a paper in my language arts class."

"About what?" Claire asked as she picked up Jake from his highchair, wiping his messy face with a towel.

"What our parents do for a living and if we want to be like them or choose our own careers in the future." His voice was soft but somewhat disgruntled.

Claire felt a pang of guilt rip through her. She had a job, and a good one too. Terrasave had been very generous with her pregnancy in the past and was being equally as generous with this one. However, she knew her son was struck with sudden sadness because of his father. Patrick didn't particularly know _exactly _what Wesker did but he was a smart boy and had a pretty good idea. It was also hard to avoid it when his father used to be the most wanted man in the world. After New York, his slate had been bleached, no one knew how he did it but his ledger was clean and that's all the incentive he needed to start mucking around with large corporations, tying their legs and watching them plummet. Patrick had heard rumors that he was absorbing a large and ubiquitous company called Neo-Umbrella, but he didn't really know much further than that.

"What am I supposed to say?" Patrick blurted, a crack in his voice. "That my dad is some kind of terrorist that kills people for fun?" Suddenly, the boy erupted into tears and slouched on the counter.

Claire set Jake back in his highchair and was immediately comforting Patrick. "Hey," She said softly. "It's ok…" Claire pulled Patrick against her even though he tried to protest. "Your dad is not terrorist and he most certainly doesn't kill people for fun… but he's someone who you should be proud to call your father. I know he hasn't been here much but he cares about you guys."

"Then why doesn't he come home?"

Claire was suddenly reminded of when Patrick first started having thoughts about his father, almost 2 years ago now. He spent his days pining over the thought of meeting him, wallowing in the lost time. She could not resent Wesker back then, he didn't come to know of their existence until it was absolutely necessary.

Claire sighed and clenched her jaw. "Patrick you have to believe me when I say that your dad is out there doing the right thing. It might be a little different than what everybody tells you but I promise, he'll be back some day."

The boy did not prod any further. He knew that someday, the wolf would come knocking.

XXXXX

Albert Wesker did not need anyones approval but his own. Every slobbering corporate pig was willing to lay their money down for this single-handed successor of Umbrella's long derived wealth. He sat on top of a mountain of money and power, two things that he was _very _stingy with. He, unlike other business mongrels, did not throw his coin to just anyone. Wesker was quite particular to whom he paid to get the job done. And on the other hand, his seemingly _limitless _power came from more than just years of accumulation. It slept below his veins like the slumber of a dragon. It coiled through him like a viper. Everyone who was worth knowing, knew that Umbrella's most infamous virus coursed through his blood. It made Wesker seem even more dangerous than they already claimed him to be. They knew that not only could he bring a man down with his wealth, dragging his name through the mud, but he could also bring a man down with his fists, dragging his body through the mud. And because of this fact, it deemed Wesker a very dangerous but also a very well respected man. He was someone people could benefit from professionally but also someone people didn't _dare _cross.

To the common crowd, Wesker was well renowned for being a benefactor in the growing world of medicine. Homage played a very large roll in the preservation of natural resources as well as erecting nearly one-hundred new hospitals worldwide. "Chairman Wesker", a scientist, a philanthropist, a businessman. "Albert Wesker", a murderer, a tyrant, a godless heathen. However, when it was all said and done, no one _really _knew Wesker at all. What went on behind his icy exterior, some would say was nothing but planning and diligence. But Wesker was something more… he was always something more. He kept a gun in his bedside table because he knew what lurked in the dark. He didn't have friends because his trust was coveted by himself. He killed because he craved the smell of blood in his nose. But one thing that typically escaped the minds of many was that he _pined _for a woman he could not hold onto. To most, Claire Redfield seemed flat and rather transparent compared to Wesker's affluent glamour. However, he was privy to how tragic and _complex _the woman really was. He learned and memorized every part of her, the good and the bad. Took her for all she was worth and more, dedicated himself to her safety. But happy endings were never Wesker's forte. They both knew, oh deep down they knew, that even though they had laid scars upon the other, _imprinted _on each others hearts, Pride and Power just did not mix. Wesker was secretly thankful that Claire did not try to appeal to his sense of honor. For which most thought he had none.

Despite their constant distance, Wesker had left a part of him with Claire. Their children were a constant reminder of his seemingly ubiquitous image. And Claire had left a part of her with Wesker. The scars on his back were a constant reminder of his battle against the ever swelling darkness that tried its damnedest to swallow her.

Wesker was waiting for Ada at a large and grandiose hotel. He was seated in the lobby bar, casually sipping on a glass of amber scotch. His shaded eyes scanned over a newspaper, todays headline projecting boldly: "**CHINA, THE LARGEST ECONOMIC SUPERPOWER SIGNS WITH HOMAGE**". Wesker smirked into his glass before downing the remainder of his drink. Every piece of his cruel puzzle was coming together, and smoothly at that. Within the next few months, China would be blindsided by his ruthlessness, his iron grip will clench even tighter as his obstacles would fall. Every army and force of man would _crack _under the sheer force of his relentless revolution. The world would fall behind and a new genesis would be at hand. Those who were worthy would join him, disciples amongst a God, and those who were not, would be slated, destroyed and consumed by the ever-turning rotation of that revolution. The snake would devour them all.

A silver case slid onto the counter next to him as did the woman carrying it.

"Your money." Ada said cooly.

"Well done, Ms. Wong." Wesker responded. He waved his gloved hand towards the wall of liquor behind the bar. "I believe you have earned yourself a drink."

Ada ignored his stab at sarcasm. "Everything is in motion, Wesker. China has the virus and Derek Simmons is your political puppet."

Wesker's eyes flashed behind his dark shades. The crimson hellfire pools swimming with absolute menace. "Then there is only one thing left on my list." His words were slickwith venom, every syllable leaking with peril. "Time to shut it down."

Ada eyed the man next to her so carefully. His face was completely stoic despite his current command. This was the turning point, his calloused hands would release and ensure the deaths of millions of people… Ada felt her gut churn slightly, she wasn't one for genocide but she had also been Wesker's right hand for a very long time. They had made it in this world together by watching each others backs and their reliance on each other was strong. Wesker put his very limited trust in Ada and she was silently thankful for that. There were few individuals that were worthy of such a position. She knew that whatever this world had succumbed to, Albert Wesker would be there, waiting for her with his gloved hand stretched towards her.

"So you're really going through with this…" Ada asked him flatly.

Wesker did not falter. "Yes." His head tilted ever so slightly. "Do I sense doubt? Or do I need to remind you where your loyalties lie?"

Ada shook her head. "You don't need to remind me, Wesker. A little part of me just doesn't understand why you wanna watch this world burn."

"Burn and rise from its ashes, Miss. Wong."

Ada unlocked the cuff on her wrist and Wesker gripped the handle. "Off to Washington then?"

Wesker stood up and placed a one-hundred dollar bill on the counter for his pleasantries and checked his watch. "By the time we arrive it will be four o' clock."

"Security won't be a problem. I've had it taken care of."

Wesker nodded as they began striding through the lobby. "Anything else?"

Ada could feel her stomach swim as they took their seats in a black luxury sedan. "Leon. He'll be there… he'll try to stop us."

Wesker _smiled _sadistically_, _his wolfish teeth flashing dangerously, eyes burning through the dimness of the car. "I'd like to see him try."

XXXXX

"Bio-organic weapons are a global threat and we are partly to blame. We have to come clean and start working with the rest of the world if we want to have any chance of fighting this." The President's words were firm in Leon's ears.

The old man paced in his office, back turned to his most trusted agent.

"New York was a mistake but we got lucky," Leon said. "We managed to cut it off from everywhere else."

"That does not matter. What matters is that it still happened and lives were still taken. Raccoon City, Spain, Harvardville… they were all because we cannot get ahead of our enemies." The President turned to face Leon. "I made the mistake of covering up Raccoon. I made a choice that I regret every day of my life. I will not let New York become the same."

"You'll be removed from office, sir." Leon said flatly, knowing all too well that he could not steer him in the other direction.

"I am aware of these consequences."

Leon nodded in the sudden silence of the room. "I'll arrange a meeting."

With that, the agent was gone. The President exhaled deeply and shook his head, the weight on his shoulders growing tenfold. It was not about covering up the past, that was years over with. He wanted to right his wrongs and if that meant being removed from his position, then so be it. Lie after lie had built the empire that was the American government and he had simply fueled that fire by protecting Umbrella all those years ago.

The door to his office opened slowly but his back was still turned, gazing out of the window and into the courtyard below.

"Leon, that was swift. I assure all of the necessary preparations are in order?"

"Oh they most certainly are, Mr. President." Albert Wesker's cool yet menacing voice pierced the stillness of the room, sending darting chills down his spine. He knew the wolf at the door and had wondered why it had taken this long for him to scrape his claws on the wood.

"Mr. Wesker." He greeted calmly. "It is a pleasure to finally meet your audience."

Wesker nodded slowly. "Likewise."

"But I can only assume you're here for one thing." The President faced him then, sized up every inch of his six foot three form. Eye to eye, red hues burning behind dark shades. He acknowledged Ada then, recognizing her from the FBI's short list of most wanted men and women, two of them standing in front of him. And Wesker was the man with the highest bounty.

"It has come to my attention that you desire to release amounts of very _privy _information to the public." Wesker spoke, a swift snap in his voice like the crack of a whip, every syllable like knifes. "Privy information that only myself, you, and very few others know."

"I see what you have become." The President said firmly.

Wesker was slightly taken back but no emotions crossed his features. "I beg your pardon?"

"Spencer used to speak so highly of you, he said that you would be the one to usher in a new genesis." He shook his head. "I never knew exactly what he was speaking of but now," His eyes scanned over the man before him. "now I know what he meant."

"You know nothing about me." Wesker said lowly, harsh and thundering voice dripping with danger. "And you know _nothing_ of what I will write for this world."

Before The President could blink, the office was engulfed in a thick black smoke, his already impaired vision becoming worse. It invaded his lungs and his coughing was the only sound in the room, eyes tearing up from the smoke. He backpedalled into the desk, toppling over onto the floor, he pawed around for the emergency switch under his desk but his muscles grew weaker with every passing second until he could no longer hold himself up. Strained and painful coughs racked his body, lungs suffocating, heart pumping furiously. He looked up before his entire body failed him and just before his lids threatened to close forever, the last thing he would see were the ominous burning trails left behind by Albert Wesker's fierce and violent eyes.

**A/N: Only one chapter left. It has been an amazing journey, my friends. **


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